A Passage
by GM Andy
Summary: The complete Chronicles of Riddick through the eyes of a half Furyan survivor. Who are Jack, Kyra, and Richard? And why does a Company man by the name of Carl Johanstein want them all contained? This is their passage as lost souls to Furya. R&J, I&L, C
1. The Butcher Bay Gamble

**A/N:** Revision never stops...

I had a few minor questions from a reader and thought I'd clarify a couple of points. Also I re-read the Pitch Black novel by Frank Laura, and guess what – Hidden in the after-crash scenes there's a little tidbit about where Audrey says she ran away from Scorpio One, leaving her parents behind. Then later she says "I was just running away when this all happened." The two together sparked an interesting twist. So here I add that the Hunter-Gratzner leaves port from Scorpio One instead of Conga. Conga is still where Johns catches Riddick so my next chapter will have revisions to reflect this overlooked piece of info. In addition, I add in the 'Dark Athena' level for the upcoming re-release of Butcher Bay. It's just a guess, if course so my mental outline for the event kind of follows Dark Fury. When I get more info I might just have to split this chapter in two.

I'm sure this won't be the last time I revise, either. I don't own, so don't sue.

_A Passage_

**Prologue: The Butcher Bay Gamble**

He could remember a time… God, it seemed like years ago now, when he was used to hearing his name spoken in a friendly fashion. His earliest memories of someone being nice to him were fuzzy in that typical way that childhood memories were. Well, of course they were, he'd been something like five at the time when the gray-haired, sour faced woman – Miss Gory - had offered him her hand and led him off the ship that he'd dreamt of – What? Home? Not likely. Ruin? Wastelands filled with broken buildings and a small group of scavengers that had somehow scraped a living off a dead world with an orange sun. He wasn't even sure that was real. He'd been told that the memories were nothing more than nightmares, the product of his overactive imagination. Gory turned out to be the head of a 'children's home' for orphans and under aged outcasts. He'd never been too sure which one he was, being as Miss Gory had insisted that he'd been born there, or very near, and brought to her by a shop owner who'd found him in a dumpster. After she'd snapped his fingers with a cane for telling lies he'd almost forgotten the place with the orange sun. She'd called him Richie. Little Richie.

He'd stayed there in the group home for years. School was held most days, but he had to share everything, usually with the bigger, older kids who wanted nothing more than to skip out and get high. He'd been 'Richie Dickie' to them. A small pest, too book smart for his own good, to fast to pick up new stuff to stay with his own grade, and too shy to speak up when the teacher moved him into classes he really had not wanted to be in. They teased him beyond endurance, until he started doing their homework to 'pay' them to leave him alone. If life had stayed that way, he would have ended up flipping burgers at the local joint, living in a roach infested flat, and scraping by. But it didn't. One day some men in nice suits showed up at the 'children's center' which was the basement area of the group home. All the kids there older than 13 and all those above a magic level in school were rounded up and brought in. By the end of the 'presentation' they had all signed up to work at the 'Sigma 3' camp in hopes of attending the Strike Force academy. That was the day he became Mr. Riddick. The day he signed his meager hopes for a normal life away in a gamble to better himself. He could still picture Miss Gory's face and her horror that the men let him sign up. She'd protested that he was too young and was told that his grades said otherwise.

Sometimes he missed her tired but warm voice calling him 'Richie'…

He focused back on the situation at hand. Same ol', same ol'. Both he and the flame haired man in blue had been here before, together inside a prison transport. He, dressed in Butcher Bay standards, was in chains; the other was not. It was a bit more than chains, actually. He glanced around with his deep brown eyes at the safety cage that kept him immobilized to the bench and sighed. Richard B. Riddick wished he could say that he'd lost count of the times they played out this drama. The 'they' being he and an endless stream of mercs and bounty hunters. But he couldn't, of course. He remembered in vivid detail every slam, every escape, and every day on the run. He remembered every trap and every capture. Once more, he remembered every corrupt guard and merc he'd ghosted. He knew them better than they knew themselves most times.

William Johns was a different kind of merc, though. He doubted that any other would have caught him this run. But each escape and recapture taught him something he couldn't have learned any other way. Johns was his personal blue-eyed devil. Riddick was an escape artist without peer. He slipped the toughest slams starting with the Altair deep storage facility. Killing the guards there was the stupidest thing he could have done, because it labeled him a 'merc-killer' and all the self righteous hypocrites swarmed out of the woodwork. But Johns was a late arrival, picking up on his carefully 'random' patterns almost by instinct. Those patterns fooled every other merc out there, aside from the dead ones. It hadn't been Johns on his tail after Hubble Bay Penal or Ribald S. Correctional. Then there'd been a group of mercs all who had managed to catch him on sheer dumb luck. His luck had seemed to change for a while after slipping Tangiers Penal Colony and making it into a unit of soldiers for hire.

Riddick had fairly fond memories of those boys. They were good men, young but willing and almost too eager. They were well trained and took up following whoever seemed the smartest at the time. He'd fought in the Wailing Wars with the best of them… Then things went sour and the marines showed up. Johns thought he was a big bad with his stripes and tracking orders. Odd thing was, the unit Riddick was with was on the front line and none of them were trying to run away when he showed up. That hadn't stopped 'William the Conquer' from making life hellish for some of the e-tack unit. One thing that Riddick had learned was that in spite the bravado Johns hated landings. He had even when he was military. That was how far the two of them actually went. Riddick couldn't deny that at the beginning he had some respect for the man he now hated with a cold passion that was built up over multiple impossible situations.

Situations like Johns recognizing whom Riddick was when the Brass recalled the merc e-tack unit they had ended up fighting alongside each other in. And Johns hiding the order for the pullout. Johns, whose greed surfaced as a raging animal… Riddick had fought a psychological battle with him, over the lives of the remaining members of the squad -- and he'd lost. More deaths on a merc killer's hands. Johns had been quite willing to allow Riddick to carry the sole blame as he dragged the ex-ranger back to Tangiers again. In the year that it took him to slip the new security, Johns, the new marshal badge gleaming on his chest, tracked down 17 other runners who like Riddick had proved difficult to keep behind bars. So it was Johns that Tangiers contacted, and Johns who had taken Riddick to Ursa Luna double max, fondly known as Slam City by inmates everywhere, the first time. Riddick had snuffed out the top dogs at the space station, once it became clear that Johns had told them a number of outright lies designed to cost the bigger man his life.

Yet in spite of that, the escape was almost too easy, Riddick reflected. Johns had been waiting just out of the station's sensor range and picked up Riddick's stolen ship after a chase and crash in the system's Oort cloud. Which led to this moment. How was it that Johns could still be fearful of landings? Riddick watched the man across from him blanch. His constant teasing about the danger might be part of that, he guessed. Then again, Johns had caught him, and been paid, nearly 3 times now. Surely the guild would catch on soon. He remembered why Johns was going out of his way to bring him here, to the triple max slam of Butcher Bay… Old debts. Hoxie, the prison boss, had somehow gotten his hands into Johns' purse. Perhaps it was a bribe or a bet; Riddick didn't know or care. But for some reason Johns thought he could walk away debt free with 20k extra under his belt. That was his current rant with the other guards on this ratty boat.

"Oh. Greed is an ugly thing, Johns," he cut in, with a tiny smirk form on his lips for a moment. The fake badge, true to form, scowled and told him to shut up. Riddick turned his attention to how he'd get out of this new slam Johns was taking him to. If only it would be an easy flip. Something like a hatch on the landing pad, used after offing the offending merc, connected to areas under the slam that he could work his way through and into the waste system. Maybe he'd get lucky…but just as freedom beckoned a voice interrupted.

"Rise and shine, asshole." A sharp poke between the securing bars in the ribs jarred Riddick fully awake. "Come on, shit for brains. I know you're not asleep. Rise and shine Riddick. Time to check out your new home," Johns voice sounded irritated. With a roll of his brown eyes, Riddick waited until the other prisoners were up and escorted by the prison guards off the ship. What else could he do as long as the security cage was locked? Johns punched in the code to release his bounty and leveled the gun onto the dangerous man, "Move it." They maneuvered down the ramp as the merc leaned in with, "And play nice, you hear? Hoxie won't like it if you cause a scene."

But Riddick's mind was on escape, not Johns and his threats. The vista outside the ship reached his calculating brown eyes and impressed upon him that this place was not the sort of place one walked out of. Sand, rusty and harsh, covered the distant ground. Warning signs revealed that mines kept the potential escapees from using that route. The landing pad and prison were built to impress. His reflexes made him squint from the coarse grit suspended in the difficult to breathe air as he scanned up the runway and over the huge bulk of the slam. The rusty stain marred the metal skin of the building as it reached into the heavens. A towering hell that disappeared into a murky reddish-tan sludge of a sky, concealing who knew what terrors. Riddick assessed everything with care, "You know you always take me to the nicest places, Johns." He was being an ass, but no more of one then Johns deserved.

His armed caretaker just thrust his gun toward the entrance and barked orders. "Shut up and walk…" Riddick tuned out the words even as he kept up the banter flowing between he and the merc. Johns was convinced that once Hoxie laid eyes on his prisoner all would be forgiven. The blonde man walking toward them with a complement of prison guards did not look overly impressed and Riddick just had to point out Hoxie did not forget nor forgive anything…

The following usual banter between merc and prison boss was enough to deaden the attention span of even the most trained killer. It was the same old story, outside a different joint. Riddick pretended total disinterest as the two sized each other up. Johns was poorly, his pay not covering his debts while Hoxie pulled off the puffed-up peacock look with dignity to spare, feathers and all. Only when Hoxie turned his attention fully toward the convict did Richard B. Riddick even act like he gave a shit. The arrogance of the man's words, "Huh, -- So this is Riddick? …Well, from now on, Butcher Bay owns your ass," grated on already sandblasted nerves. The large man forced his muscles slack. He placed his instant hate of Hoxie above that of Johns. It is not a wise move on the prison boss' part to threaten, but the man was too blinded by his sense of power to notice the slight change in the muscled man before him.

All the while Johns fumed from his treatment. Somehow he'd lost control of the situation far to quickly for his comfort level. A tiny part of his brain reminded him that this was exactly why he disliked dealing with Hoxie in the first place. The Warden had already begun to sink his talons into the prize and he'd not even gotten paid! Time to fix that oversight, "He's all yours once I get my bounty."

But Hoxie waved his arm at the merc, ignoring the man in favor of his deadly game with his prisoner. Full attention focused on the con now, after spotting the tiny flinch that signaled the fight or flight impulse barely contained inside the trained killer in chains. "Now, don't you be a problem. My boys like solving problems," he warned.

There was the possibility that Hoxie wasn't as stupid as the last prison boss Riddick had the pleasure of, um, meeting. Still, the man was so filled with arrogance that it boiled in his blood like a poison. Poison that needed to be let onto the ground. 'You'd think that for one fuckin' time that the idiot in charge would feel fear like he's suppose to,' Riddick narrowed his eyes, partly from the whipping sand in the wind and partly because he really did hate Hoxie from the get go. The man was a cancer, a sickness… Riddick felt driven to pass that on, "Johns said you were ugly. For once, I gotta agree with him."

The prison boss knows trouble when he hears it; Hoxie ain't stupid, "Already trying to get under my skin?"

"Would be easier if I had somethin' sharp."

That was stated way too calmly for a man facing Butcher Bay for life. Hoxie forced back the impulse to growl. Riddick was a dangerous man, but Butcher Bay was filled with such men and as the boss of Butcher Bay, Hoxie thought he was used to dealing with such things. But the longer they waited to process this killer the greater the danger. Perhaps it was time to move this inside the prison walls. No one had ever escaped from here. Hoxie would keep that record to his death. Riddick was his now, and this was where he'd spend out his last days.

Johns still felt left out. He again tried to haggle, "So, Plus 20?"

"I'd say he just about covers what you owe." Hoxie's voice signaled Riddick to focus his attention elsewhere for a time… Johns whined a bit… Hoxie put his foot down. Riddick observed the guard posts, the open areas for docking, the likely dead zones where bullets won't hit…

As he was lead off, something tickled Riddick with the knowledge that Johns wasn't giving up the game… He signaled that he would still play too, "Hey Johns, better luck next time." He just hoped that when the time came for the impossible that the blue-eyed devil will be there to deliver.

Once inside, walking among a group of armed and armored guards, Abbot as his side, Riddick endured processing. Processing consisted of being led into his ward while being told the rules, followed by delousing. Smart thing for him to do was to let Abbot and the guards think they were in charge long enough to figure out how to slip away. Only one problem. His ward turned out to be Abbot's personal playground. Abbot was as bad as Hoxie, only more accessible. Luck was good though, because Abbot was not as in control as he though he was. He never noticed the real plan. He even offered the top spot, the rooster he called it, to the victor of the gang-fight. But Riddick was not an inmate, he'd never do the guards work for them. Besides, he was not looking to stay at Butcher Bay any longer than he had to. And for a while there, he thought he was on his way out.

He made his deals, worked the network, found out the secrets he needed to find. He'd raised holy hell, panic and riots, all for a chance, a single chance, to make it to the fabled 'pigsville'. The easy way out. Only it hadn't been so easy. No, Butcher Bay was not an easy slip… by any stretch of the imagination.

Riddick wished that Johns had some brains, any brains really, at the moment. The struggle just to get out of the single max area nearly killed him; his eyes were fucked, thanks to the crazy Pope Joe of the darkness. 'I sure as shit ain't drawing attention to the change, and no one seems to care. All I know is that my dark eyes are kinda light colored now, even to the blackest part of them. It's really, truly, screwed. But hey, they got me through the darkness, saved my sorry ass from the madmen of the pit, all the way to Pigsville. And -- it's kind of cool to see in the pitch black. Pigsville was the best shot out, the phony gun delivery the best bet for getting the access code… meaning Abbot's eyeball. And guess what? Johns had to play the hero. Fuck. So here we are, walking to Hoxie's office. Abbot is rightly pissed. Hoxie, of course, wasn't going to reward Johns, Hell no. I get the mines. Johns got broken ribs. Shouldn't have stepped in the way, Johns….'

Getting the mines meant dealing with an entirely new network, with entirely new threats and new odd characters. 'Double Max. It started in the tower. Workers have to fight for the way into the maze of the mines. So I did that. Took out the best. Abbot denied my pass. So he wanted to be a dick. I just made sure he had to see me. That got me the pass I needed. The Mines. Not too bad, after beating the living crap out of every bad ass in the tower, including Abbot. Then of course, there's the plan…' Riddick looked at the brown-haired hippy-type that was playing the 'brains' of the operation. Jagger Vallance lays out the entire way to clear out the prison and allow them to slip away. As plans go it's all right, only Riddick thinks the high and mighty Vallance was a twit. But hey, it's not his plan… so might as well play the game, 'cuz if nothing else the boom at the end will be hecka fun…

The boom came somewhere in the middle. 'Stupid plan,' Riddick frets. 'Stupid, mutant filled fucking plan… Never trust a drug addled dip shit.' The prison-wide evacuation is in full swing. Monsters are taking over the prison and eating every person - hack, merc, and prisoner alike - that they can catch. And they are catching quite a lot of them. Only bright spot is that Abbot's body is someplace in the mess so likely it won't end up on his record, even though really the entire situation is his fault. He stops to check the ship status. There's one ship left. He made his way there, dropped the others trying to get a lift, and discovered to his disgust that Jagger Vallance was already there trying to break into the cockpit. Riddick took Vallance's shiv and set to work getting the hatch open.

But once again… Johns entered into the picture. 'Stupid plan, Stupid merc,' Riddick swore mentally as he grappled with the redhead. He felt the shiv sink into the sweet spot, or near enough, and was just about to drop the merc onto the floor when Vallance shot at them both, aiming for Johns but hitting Riddick in the ribs. Oddly enough he feels the shiv snap even as his side explodes in hot agony. It's all he can do to remember to breathe. In slow motion, he and his blue-eyed devil crumple away from each other to the floor. Amazingly enough, he's facing the ceiling. The sound of gunfire erupts into the ship as guards turn Vallance into hamburger. Riddick watches the hot lead fly above him, "Hey, Johns? You dying on me?"

Johns can feel his life ebbing away. But the rich deep bass of his enemy pulls him back. "Not today, Riddick. Sorry, no."

"Ah, well. I guess that's a good thing Johns, 'cuz I'm not dying on you either." Riddick said as they both lay there bleeding…

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

'Funny what you think of when you are facing death. Hoxie could have saved himself a huge bit of grief if he'd just let me bleed instead of tossing me into deep storage. I mean, shit, the rest of being on ice nearly healed me. I actually feel pretty good, even though there's only about 30 feet or so to the edge and no place to hide.' Riddick was running. The building was sloping away; the fall will kill, no doubt about it. Bullets fly every which way. It's getting near the end of the line. He's almost out of space to run on. There's nothing left. He'll die here, one way or the other…

A ship rose up over the ledge. Riddick knows without looking who it is. Johns. The blue-eyed devil finally pulled his wild card. He'll take the chance; one leap and he's on the ship and slipping inside. The merc was flying but had a gun trained on where he thought Riddick would be. He was shaky. It didn't take much to knock him out and turn the ship around. Riddick still has unfinished business -- with Hoxie. He narrowed his eyes behind his goggles and aimed the ship at the large plate-glass window that has to be the prison boss' office. Hoxie's afternoon was about to become much more interesting.

Glass shattered and metal screeched as the ship slammed into the window. Hoxie started back but there's no way he can go far before Johns' body thumps onto the floor, "How much is the merc is really worth to you, Hoxie. What are you willing to give me for him?" It was not a question meant to be answered. The prison boss tried to cut a deal having already hit the panic button and needing more time before he escaped the threat. Clearly Riddick planned on walking out of Butcher Bay and he's one angered convict. Riddick knew Hoxie was not about to let him go… hell to that, but no matter, because he knows how to deal with whatever Hoxie had left to pitch at him. Invisible robotic guards with big guns? No problem. Even the last ditch safety box poses little difficulty. And once more Hoxie found himself in really deep trouble as Riddick turned one of the big guns on the box, and it tosses him, chair and all, back to the floor.

Johns struggled to his feet. Likely it had been better for him to be dead out while Riddick took care of Hoxie's defenses anyhow. Bracing himself against the warden's desk he listened to Riddick lay out his demands. Codes to Hoxie's personal ship. Hoxie suddenly was real nervous… figures that the code for Abbot's ship would be the same as the ones for Hoxie's. Riddick looks over at Johns, because it's going to take them working together to get out of this. Johns stares back as the con asks, "Can you walk?" Yep, walking he can manage. Then there's the next question, "Run?" Johns looked at Riddick like he's insane and shook his head. No, there's no way in hell he can run. "I got an idea--" Riddick revealed.

Johns has nothing to loose, not a damn thing. He's got no medical care, no pay, and no loyalty left to spare for Hoxie. He listens and agrees to the idea, even willing to put himself in a position that would be unthinkable in any other situation. The idea gets them past the guards, past the alarm triggered panicked mob flowing toward Hoxie's office, past everyone and right into the docking bay with Hoxie's ship. And Johns has to wonder if Hoxie managed to stop the guards with the gag in his mouth… Riddick actually unlocks the shackles the merc was wearing before lifting the ship off the landing pad. Good thing too, as Johns needed both hands to keep his balance. Riddick asked if he's scared. Johns replied, "No." Then Riddick told him that takeoff was actually more dangerous than landing. Johns blanches. The con chuckles as he lifts the blast helmet off his head and heads the ship towards the stars. It's a new beginning.

The next few hours for the merc are filled with red haze and agony. Once his opponent gets the ship into a safe flight path Johns discovers that Riddick knows something about emergency medicine, more than he does anyway. By the time his wounds are tended, the redhead is passed out and that's where he stays for nearly 36 hours. He totally misses the encounter with the ship, Dark Athena, and Riddick's saving his ass from becoming a technological version of a flesh golem. Given time to think, Richard B. Riddick cannot avoid the fact that he should just kill the man now, while he's down. Only he can't. His personal honor is all he's got left and he won't toss that aside so easy. So instead he protects the man, goes out of his way to save him from the insanity of Captain Revas…

At one point, William Johns wakes still in a haze of pain, and is surprised that Riddick actually insists that he eat something. The surroundings are not familiar, and he's still in a haze that limits his ability to think. But he does eat, and manages to get his feet back under him. They make a truce of sorts, although it's a silent one, unspoken and shaky, that allows them to make their way through the bowls of Dark Athena to the flight deck. Hours pass before Johns is free of his fever.

All told the truce lasts for three days before opportunity presents itself and things break. Johns is always thinking about his bounty, and he blows it. He could've let the man go, tit for tat. Riddick deserved a good turn, for saving his life, for checking his wound and keeping him from dying. But Johns wouldn't know a good turn if it bit him on the ass. They fight, and Riddick simply hits him with a three dose full hypo of something strong enough to put a bear down. The merc finds himself waking up to a darkened ship, one that is not in the best of shape, and Riddick gone. It's not Hoxie's craft, but something far more sinister. Johns is able to acquire one of the transport shuttles and heads off to locate his prey… He stops to compose a log:

_"Day 3_

_Suppose I should wonder why I'm alive. I got some distance between us and Butcher Bay in Hoxie's ship before Riddick dosed me and left me for dead. It's lucky I don't die easy."_

Johns shut off the recorder. Three days out from shafting Hoxie outta Riddick's bounty money… And the ex-ranger had given him the slip. Johns clutched his side and groaned. Not only had his back not fully healed but Riddick's going away present was a nice set of bruised ribs. At least the infection was taken care of. How the hell was he supposed to do his job? Of course that was what the man wanted, Johns off the trail. The merc rifled through the half-used med kit and took a handful of pain pills. 'They don't do shit, do they? No. I need something stronger.' He pressed the autopilot and told it "New Mecca." before crashing into a dreamless, pain laced stupor.

Riddick is unaware that his own route to Helion 5 is being shadowed by Johns' limping ship. He's got contacts on Helion 5 and messages to deliver there from some of the cons in Butcher Bay. He made his deals and even though they are likely dead, he'll still hold up his end of the bargain. While he's there he can lay low, maybe check the rumors and news. If he's lucky he'll find out if Johastein still runs the mines on Sigma 3. If he's lucky, he'll know if it's worth the risk trying to uphold the old vow and rescue her from the Company's clutches.

_"Day 7_

_I tracked the son of a bitch to some bombed out mess of a planet. If New Mecca offered free dry cleaning I think they'd get every wretch in this system. There's no Riddick here… It's too fuckin' bright."_

It took several days for Johns to feel up to doing more than just staring dazed at the stars. By then he had guessed that Riddick would steer clear of Helion Prime. He piloted the ship down anyway. Couple of contacts, a bit of UD's, some string pulling, and Johns had what he needed. Not just for his ship, but for the constant pain that danced up his spine too. Perhaps Riddick did stop here... He had a lead for Helion 5. Might as well check it out…

Riddick didn't wait for 4 days to leave the system. It took a day to make his contacts, several hours to wait, and then he delivered his messages. The system left his pain centers dulled but his pockets full. His mind would recover from the poking just fine. He settled on heading to Aquila, on account of there being favors he could do, delivery of packages from Helion 5 to Aquila Prime. They even got him a ticket and passport. This should throw the blue-eyed devil off the trail…

Yeah, Helion prime was a bombed out mess of a planet if there ever was one. Then, so was Helion 5. The entire economy hinged on folk wanting to travel outside of the Helion Nebula, but not too far outside. Stupid "I've been to the edge" slogan emblazoned on everything in sight. Why would Riddick stop here? Johns had no clue, but by the time he got there one thing was sure, Riddick was gone. Not only that, but he'd slipped off planet without leaving a single clue as to which way he was going… Johns saw a doc… got his back wound properly "healed" up … only the damage was old, the metal deeply stuck, and he didn't trust some backwater hick to remove it, so thus the "heal" left a nasty, raised, scar about a hand width in length. And it still hurt to high heaven…

He got the ship fueled up and back in space. Last couple of times Riddick had escaped from a slam he'd headed toward Old Earth, roughly. Johns let the ship drift that direction while he made up his mind where to go next. News about what had happened at Butcher Bay was slim. It wasn't reaching the regular headlines. Maybe another slam would know…

A few days later another Merc hailed him. "So you are 'William the conqueror', huh? I heard you had a pretty clean run last year, Billie boy," the voice of the rather large mustached but babyfaced merc crackled over the ship's older communication system.

"And just who the hell are you, Friend?" Johns replied with caution.

The man laughed, "Just a fellow merc, Marshal Johns. Cory Dresden is my name. I must admit that your track record is impressive even if your latest quarry is evading you."

"I have no idea what you are sprouting off about, Dresden."

The dark haired merc eyed his image carefully, "No? I got a wave saying that Riddick had escaped from Butcher Bay! Can you believe it? Is there a slam in the 'Verse that can hold the motherfucker?" He could see Johns' jaw tighten. "I suppose you didn't know? They are looking for a new prison boss and head guard too. I'm betting the prison board is going to take away their triple max status after this."

"Fuck. Really? Hell. I just left the S.O.B there a few months ago as a favor to the old peacock." Johns was thinking that perhaps his pain shot was wearing thin.

"I did hear. Lots of us thought that Ol' Butcher would be one slam that he couldn't get out of. Guess we were all wrong. I do owe you a thanks though. Hoxie was knee deep into my pocketbook, and now I can write that off."

Johns tried to laugh with the man for a second; "He was in mine too. Was there anyone he hadn't gotten to, I wonder?" They laughed some more before Johns turned off the com. 'Fuck… How did that get out?'

_"Day 13_

_I'm heading for Tangiers penal. It's home of some of the highest paying bounties and some pretty fine spicy noodles. Doubt they have any leads. You know, I can see Riddick's goggled ass every time I close my eyes and start to drift. I'm watching out for other Mercs… I don't want to play partners… one named Dresden."_

It was almost a week later. The shadow of a blip on his sensors was still there. 'Sure, keep following hoping for a lead. It won't get you shit,' Johns thought as he tapped a finger on the screen with the damning intel. Most likely Dresden thought he was out of range. Stupid shit. Making 'William the Conqueror' angered by hanging on his ass was never wise, but if you were to try it then at least know the range of his ship's sensors and detection sweeps.

The wave from Tangiers is filled with good news. Very good news. Due to the shit at Butcher Bay the prison board decided to stop fucking around with Riddick finally. The boys at Tangiers were getting the chamber ready for another final visit. There was nothing that Dresden could do about that. 'I've taken Riddick to Tangiers before… and this time they want him for keeps. Lucky me. I'll get the death bond this time. End game. But I won't share. I never have. And Dresden is looking for shadows. They don't have any leads. I think I have an idea though. Riddick likes fast ships. Kovan ships. The only place to pick up one of those easy is Aquila, unless he's become stupid… Time to head up stream a bit. Dresden will never think to look on those robotic outposts that Riddick loves so much.'

_"Day 14_

_I keep running past preachers and children headed for New Mecca. Lucky bastards with a clear conscience I guess. But then, what the fuck do I have to atone for anyway? Maybe too much to mention... My biggest sin? Yeah, not catching that bastard yet."_

Almost there. I think I can smell him. I wonder if he's closer than I thought he was. He likes kids. But no, he hates preachers… I'm going to stick to my plan of going to Aquila. Um… I wonder what that light is on for? Ah, shit… Okay, maybe I can hobble my way to one of those outposts. I have 49 hours of air left. Looks like 36 hours to the nearest one. Guess I should try to sleep…

_"Day 16_

_(I'm) Bored as shit. Fuel line's down again. Waiting for repair. It's thick as thieves around here, but no Riddick. Another day lost. Riddick's gotta be in the next system by now. Goddamnit. 17 for 17. He's not gonna be my first loss."_

Well, I made it. Still have to wait though. Another few hours and I'll be planet side. Then the real parts can go in and I'll be able to scout for a bit. I think he's here, somewhere. See that panic… it usually means that he's exactly the opposite of what I fear. It's just that I don't want to be wrong for once. He gets a Kovan ship now and I'll never find him. I do have sources, so maybe I can get my eyes looking out for him. I know they can flush him out. Yeah, like that. I bet he's on Aquila Major. I tell my eyes to keep track of him. I'm heading there now.

Riddick had almost two weeks of no mercs. He was feeling antsy that morning, but the crime boss here wanted him to do one more favor, pick up a data file and deliver it to Lupus 5. Not his favorite place to think of going, but the lady was giving him a ship to do it in, cover to get into the Company nest, clearance to check up on – her – and he needed to do it. So he made his deals, cooled his heels, and played the woman's game while watching over his shoulder.

He was coming back to his ship from picking up another package, the details of where the data file was being kept, when he spotted that read hair shining like a damn beacon. He turned tail and ran. Unfortunately Johns had three little helpers. He was cornered. It looked like Johns had won until the infighting started. He let Johns deal with his greedy extra hands and slipped away during the gunfight.

_"Day 20_

_I tracked him to a market on Aquila Major. Stupid Fuck. I caught him trying to hide in the crowds. It's an easy mistake. Thinks there's safety in numbers. Thinks I'm stupid. But every Rock has scum -- And scum has eyes. They also get greedy. Now there's 3 dead bodies here and still no Riddick."_

Johns slumped in his seat. That did not go down like I planned. Ah well, I can pin it on Sir-Shiv-A-Lot. He's got a ship too. Not a Kovan ship, but some crappy slow thing. I guess that's a point in my favor. I know he's trying for that Old Earth run again. No matter, I got a tracker on his ship. I know which way he's going.

Riddick took off from the encounter at the fastest speed that his borrowed ship could handle. The flight path he'd been told to take was more direct than the standard shipping lanes, but more dangerous too. He kept a watchful eye out for the 'goll pirates that preyed on folks daring this route. It took 3 days for one of the groups to strike. Not that it was a problem. The attack left the pirates dead and gave him a faster ship. All, in all, Riddick was rather pleased with the outcome. He set the now damaged and body filled ship on a fast drift to nowhere, hoping that it would throw off Johns. He could almost feel the bastard following him.

_"Day 25_

_On the lookout for Dresden -- imitator, jackass. Tangiers poster boy this month my ass. Thinks he knows how this shit gets done. Who's he ever busted? Huh? I crap bigger than his last paycheck. He knows shit. He's not even close to the scent… doesn't have that cold metal tickle on his spine."_

I'm so pissed that I don't even know what way is up. Woke up this morning to discover something bad. My tracker is floating dead. Now there's only one reason for that to happen, the ship is not being flown anymore. And I can still see the blip on the sensors, so Dresden is dogging my steps. I guess there's only one thing to do… Find out if Riddick is a ghost, or if he's slipped me again. Somehow, I'm betting he's slipped me. I'm less than a day away from the location, and for once I'm hoping there's a body in the ruin that is Riddick's.

_"Day 26_

_I'm standing on a ghost ship just outside the shipping lanes. Nothing but death here. Nothin' I ain't seen before. Looks like a group of Rychengolls tried a hijack… eh, they're shitty fighters anyway… and now Riddick has a faster ship. Those fuckin' pirates."_

That answers that. I just wonder if Riddick is going to pull his advantage or not. He's got 3 days on me. This ship has floated that long. There's a pleasure planet not far from here and I know how long it's been since he's gotten any pussy. I'm gonna play my hunch. It's only 12 hours off. A gamble, right? Would he have stopped there for 3 days or is he pushing on? I'm a guy… I'd have stopped if I knew the merc behind me was 3 days off. And it's been at least a year. I know that for a fact. Yeah. Sir-shiv-a-lot, meet your maker. I'm gonna haul your ass in.

Johns would have been less than sure of Riddick actually being on that planet if he'd guess as to the real reason for stopping there. That damn data file. He had to go through hoops to get it, doing favors for various businesses and taking out the trash as needed. It took him well more than 3 days. In fact he was just exiting from the main contact's location with the file when Johns materialized out of the mist. He didn't have time for this shit! No, no playing fair, now. The fucker won't give it up. The ex-ranger caught the ex-marine's arm, snapped it against his knee to make the man's hand go numb. Johns tightened his grip on the gun.

"Give it up, Asshole! I'm dragging you back to the slam where you belong." Johns declared as they tussled.

Riddick just grunted and closed a vice-like grip over the hand holding the gun, "I gave you a good turn, Johns. Plenty of warnings. All you gotta do is walk away, and I'll fade into the night like the ghost I am."

"Not a fucking chance, trash-baby."

He saw white. White-hot rage bubbled up in his veins. Normally he'd hold it in, fight it back, but this time he let it out. There were no words spoken save the scream that accompanied the crunch of bone. The agony crumpled his blue-eyed devil to the ground. Riddick caught himself before he went for the merc's throat. It would be so easy… Instead he settled for a kick to the man's head, leaving Johns unconscious as he slipped off planet.

_"Day 27_

_This is gonna be sketchy. My right hand's all busted. A real cheap shot. Caught up to him at a brothel on the outskirts. Damn his night vision. At least I'm being taken care of – my sources have all sorts of talents."_

God, that was stupid. Normally it would take months for my hand to heal, but I do have favors to pull and I can get elite medical care when I really need it. Like now. As it is, I'm down for at least a week. If I can't shoot, I can't catch him. I mess this up; I'll never shoot again. I'll just have to cool my heels here until the doc gives me the okay.

I should make sure I post a damn list about things I need to remember, things that have changed. Like his eyes, for one. I already knew from what he told me in Hoxie's office that he couldn't see in the daylight. Bright light equals bad for him, good for me. Darkness is good for him, bad for me. Gotta remember that. And the next time I try to catch him at a brothel or with his pants down, I need to remember to keep my damn hands away from him.

Riddick has another 12 days before he meets Johns again. Once more he's in the process of finishing up a deal, this one for the owner of the whorehouse he'd gotten the data file from. He's established that those he left behind are where he saw them last. Now he just needs to figure out how to get close enough to Johastein to take him down. At least then when he's tossed back into the nearest slam he'll have earned it. He spots Johns as he slips out the backdoor of the club where his contact wanted to meet.

"There you are!" Johns always had to be vocal when on the chase. The ex-ranger sprints off, twisting his large frame to fit through openings that might have slowed anyone else. The merc gives chase, but by the time he's lost Riddick to the maze of alleyways and rooftops he wishing he'd thought first and ran second…

_"Day 39_

_I'm getting ripped to shit chasing this animal. Torqued my ankle. Damn he can run. I gotta remember to shoot first. Shoot first Johns. Think gun—then run. I think I'm starting to like the dope too much."_

What can I say? Every time I actually find the son of a bitch he dances around the issue at hand. I'm not surprised, really. In my less addled moments I wonder if perhaps he knows I'm not at the top of my game and he's toying with me. But why? I'll never understand what is going on inside his head.

_"Day 40_

_Trying to avoid dark places for now. I need time to heal up. Those shiny globes inside my head. Should have learned my lesson at Butcher Bay. I need to reload. I need to get more… of everything…"_

Problem is: most of space is dark. I'll drift here, and try to find some pattern to his route. Sometimes I wonder if there is some clue hidden in the past, Riddick's past, that I should know. We're chasing back towards Old Earth again, only it's not quite the same as last time and I'm starting to wonder if that's his goal after all. I mean, he could've been there already, but instead he's playing keep-away and going lateral to what I'd expect. It's almost like he's looking for something… I should've just taken the scratch from Hoxie, called it even, and moved on. Why didn't I?

One Cory Dresden faced off with one Richard B. Riddick at the unlikeliest of places, Lupus 5's computer central core. Riddick has delivered his package, so he's got no fears of being caught with it. Dresden crows about his fine luck and manages to herd the con out into the docks. He's thinking that the closest slam will be the best choice. Ursa Luna, Slam City. His boys know the plan. What Dresden is not ready for is the hidden shiv that finds his sweet spot before the crew can get Riddick bound and into the 'coffin'.

Mercs are by nature turncoats. The strongest crewmember steps in and orders the boys to load the prisoner up. He spits on Dresden's face as his former boss is bleeding to death, "Serves you right, man. Taking more than your split and keeping us in space behind that asshole when we knew where the bounty was going. We could've been paid days ago. Add this one to the four others in the pen waiting for transport and we'll be vacationing back on New Mecca with our feet in the sand." With that he leaves Dresden to die.

_"Day 47_

_I took a week to get right. Keep doping that eye, doc says. Only thing is, I'm the only doc I know. I'm finding traces of Riddick everywhere… and Dresden too. Gotta trade up on my transport."_

It's been a week; I took myself off the trail and just let it drift. I'm near Lupus 5, should be easy to trade up there. I can cash in all the various drafts and pull my favors. Strange thing is, Riddick had a fast ship, and there's no goddamned reason for him to have come this way. But I think he did. And the fella dogging my steps got ahead of me. I wonder if I'll see him again?

Before Johns can plot a course down to merc central he gets a wave from Ursa Luna. The prison boss looks like shit, "William J. Johns?" he asks.

"That would be me, yes." Johns has no patience left for assholes or dipshits.

The prison boss gave him a tired but relieved smile, "I've got some intel for you, concerning a prisoner that you've been tracking according to Tangiers Penal. If you could come to the station I'd fill you in, in person." Ursa Luna is days away… And his instincts are screaming at him that Riddick is a Lupus 5. But the pleading look on the man's face, the "Please, Marshal. You are the only one I trust with this" swayed him.

"Alright, but this better be worth it."

And boy, was it… Johns arrived at the station. His footsteps ring briskly even through the thin carpeting. He was flipping a read shotgun shell with one hand, as had become his habit of late. The ex-marine walked up to the prison boss with a whistle on his lips and was ushered into a plush office. The prison boss informed him that his arrival was recorded, and that the conversation was taped. Johns chose to say nothing and nodded. The boss passed him a file and video re-enactment.

He noted that the file was old, days old. But hell, he'd watch it and see what he could catch. Police sketch artist Brian Murray had compiled the evidence and made some leaps in logic that Johns didn't quite follow. But what he was able to distill from the thing was that Riddick arrived in cryo with 4 other cons on Prison Transport Ship 249. For reasons unknown the transport had been delayed.

The mercs and the guards had been careless from the get go, not asking who they had. Not to mention the ridiculously low bounty paid for him. Come on, who actually takes 10,000, cash or no, for five prisoners? And then the boss made his first mistake; cracking open the cryo case before making sure that the prisoner was covered by a squad of armed riot guards. Instead there's only the two mercs and a single guard in the room. It's a wonder that the entire station wasn't sent crashing down to the planet it orbited.

And punching Riddick with a limp fist was just like kissing him. What dumbasses. Johns watched as Riddick breaks one man's neck, palms the other merc's gun and advances to taunt him, all without opening his eyes. Even blind Riddick is a force to be reckoned with and these assholes had no chance in hell in holding him. Johns almost snaps the video off but decides against it as he watches Riddick take the last merc hostage.

The exchange over the money is enough to make Johns snicker. He still cannot believe that these green mercs thought that 10,000 creds was enough to die for. He's not overly surprised that the single living man is more than willing to give up that money in exchange for his life, seeing as he's the only one left standing. Riddick wastes no time taking the stack of UD's and the Kools in the second guard's pocket once they reach the processing area. Johns knows Riddick doesn't smoke, but cigs are a prime currency in any slam. The ex-ranger pushes the merc into the guards and leaps for the elevator shaft.

Johns presses the pause, "You watched him, you must've known that your guards couldn't stop him. Why did you even agree to let him board? Didn't you know who he was?"

The man looks flustered; "This post is rather new for me, Marshal. I'd heard wild rumors but thought they couldn't be true."

The laugher is bitter, "Well, now you know. I guess I'll watch how bad you messed up, then we'll deal."

Johns watches as the slam goes into lockdown. The dogs raise an eyebrow. The shiners raise the other one. This is new. He thought Riddick's night vision was unique, but according to this there were other prisoners deep in the bowels of the station that also sported eyeshine. Well, that explained it. He swallowed his words of correction as one 'Cutter' took credit for Riddick's new look. The prison boss isn't even looking his direction, much to his relief. Still, Johns wondered whom Riddick found to do the shine job at Butcher Bay.

Cutter explains how the procedure works, with peeling back the cornea, using a laser to clear out the eye so that the 'reflecto-coat', hydro-luminescent film would stick to the retina. 100 creds and risking ones sight was all it cost. Johns would have to research that. Of course having a bovine medic doing eye surgery was enough to make the statistics suspect either way.

The real speculation is how Riddick made it back up top. It appeared that he used the crematory. He'd take that kind of risk. Of course once back in the light he'd beeline for eyewear. The medical community housed in the station would be a huge draw for him. The vent leads right to that area too. Johns watches as the vid switches to recorded but fuzzy footage.

Emerging from the shaft Riddick finds himself in a rather non-prison like research area. The medtech is totally taken by surprise. But Riddick has another reason to off him. He's been working with some type of high powered light or laser and is still wearing his eye protection. And Riddick wants it. "Knock, knock… So where can I get shades like that?" He dresses in the medtech's clothing and places the body on a stretcher. A quick glance around reveals that the docking bays are very near by. He sets out for one. Reaching #17 he steers his body into the closest ship and begins to prep it. A guard and dog happen upon him as he's working.

[Guard-- "Hey… This is a restricted area. Step away from the controls." Riddick does not stop what he's doing; he only needs a few moments more. "I said 'step away from the controls' asshole." Riddick continues to ignore the guard. "Alright Max, Tear his fuckin' lungs out…" But Max knows Riddick…

[Riddick-- "Sic 'em. Max." The dog turns on the guard and jumps him throwing the guard's gun off target and pushing him back enough so that the thrown blade that flies from Riddick's hand slits open his throat. Riddick and Max flee in the stolen ship.

Which leads them back to now. "His name is Riddick, Richard B. He was a Prisoner here for exactly 11 hours and 22 minutes. In that period of time he killed two guards and one med-tech. If you catch him you are to escort him directly to the max-slam facility at Hubble Bay."

'And three mercs, but you won't mention those will you, you dipshit,' Johns added silently before asking;  
"Hubble Bay's a long day in the saddle. Why not bring him straight back here?"

The uniformed man blanches, "Because we're scared shitless of him…"

Johns is sure he speaks for the entire staff. With a laugh he replies, "Okay. Sounds like my kinda job." He leaves knowing that Riddick has to be gone from Lupus 5 by now. Still, he gathers up the intel about which ship Riddick took from bay 17 and tracks the ship right back to Lupus 5. Shit. It'll be a few more days before he catches up with the con.

His arrival on Lupus 5 dumps him into chaos. There's a merc killer striking right in the middle of the headquarters, it seems. Johns is asked to come to the morgue. Once there he's shown several bodies, all of which display signs of Riddick's handy work. Yep, he's been here. But why? That's what Johns needs to know. He has to laugh at the irony of being the one to ID Dresden. Looks like he was the first to die. He's been sitting on ice for nearly ten days. Which means, of course, that TS 249 was likely manned by his ex-crew. The entire lot of them was stupid. He headed off to get smashed and mull over the clues.

_"Day 53_

_Dresden found dead on Lupus 5. Sliced down the spine. Not the tough after all, jackass. Seems like Riddick's been thinking about me."_

It takes 22 hours for Johns to pinpoint Outer Conga. Of course. Luckily Conga is just a short hop. He can get there near overnight if he leaves now.

_"Day 55_

_I know where that son of a bitch is. I can't wait to see the look on their fuckin' faces at Tangiers when I come rolling in. Ain't about money now, Riddick. I'll see you soon."_

Johns hits Outer Conga like a storm, rattling all the old chains and pulling all the long forgotten favors in his bid to locate the ex-ranger. He knows Riddick is here, someplace. Finally, after hours of putting pressure down on his contacts the ex-marine gets a nibble, and he knows exactly how to catch this killer.

_"Day 56_

_I got him."_

Landing and tracking Riddick leaves Johns with days of sleeplessness. It's midday when he pins the man down in a warehouse and flushes him out using the owners' kids. He has to shoot the eldest just to get the con talking. There's a stand off that lasts the night, and as the sun rises Johns finally breaks Riddick's resolve by shooting the youngest boy of 3 and threatens to shoot the girl. Riddick turns himself over.

Of course 'getting' his prey and holding him are two different problems. It takes a week to clear Riddick through the local justice system and then Johns has to make a bond that he will deliver Riddick to Tangiers. It's a hassle, but the redhead does it.

_"Day 63_

_I'm leaving the Conga system with Riddick in tow. I would'a never guessed he had such a soft spot in his little heart. Children in peril. He's fucking stupid like that. Should know that slowed him down too much. I hope this slam can hold him, and I hope those boys at Tangiers saved their paychecks."_

That's right, he does hope Tangiers can hold Riddick, at least long enough to fry him. Riddick tests the local jail and stretches its resources to the extreme. They can't wait to get Riddick back off planet. Once the bond is paid, Johns is ordered to get his bounty and go. He takes Riddick to Conga Prime, where his contacts have smoothed the way. Still, he's jittery. He needs to get the criminal into cryo before the animal changes its spots again and turns on him. Each day is a risk. Almost 11 days pass before Johns can relax and even then it's not a sure thing…

But before he can get him into Cryo, Johns is ordered to get his bounty out of the Conga system. He manages to get the man drugged up for the trip to Scorpio One where he can rent a secure suite in a 'hotel' that caters to Mercenaries like him. The drug treatment places Riddick in a coma like state, or at least renders him paralyzed. But Johns is sure that his captive is more aware than he is comfortable with. At least the trip to Scorpio One ends up being on a ship with other mercs and their captives, so his situation doesn't draw too much overdue attention.

Scorpio One has a fairly decent shipping business, and Johns is sure that sooner or later he'll land a transport. His little personal ship ended up being claimed by Outer Conga for damages, and Johns knew it was easier to just sign off than to fight it. The hotel is short on business and for a 10 per-cent cut the manager gives him the entire floor. This way if Big Evil manages to slip the room they can lock down the floor with the security gates to keep him contained. It takes Johns almost a week to secure passage on a freighter to Tangiers because of the security measures he insists on. The Captain, one Tom Mitchell, finally tells the brass that he feels more secure with the extra measures not less and the Spaceport officials greenlight the passage with less than 24 hours to board.

For once, Johns is looking forward to a nice long sleep…

_"Day 76_

_Lucky 18. I'm grabbing a lift from a long-range transport. Hunter-something. The son of a bitch is finally in cryo."_

(To Be continued ...


	2. The Birth of Jack

**A/N:** Updated chapter, again. Added more to Johns. Heh, gotta love Johns. ;) Also, I've changed the Port where this takes place to Scorpio One to account for Audrey's telling Shazza and Zeke she is from there

I don't own this so don't waste time suing me.

_A Passage 2:_

**The birth of Jack…**

The tired attendants unloaded the latest shuttle from Outer Conga. They were all looking forward to a day or two of time off, seeing as the waking passage had take two days and all their energy. The passengers consisted of the usual crowd, businessmen, tourists, pilgrims, and even a family or two relocating from one system to another following work. None of them paid any attention to the shorthaired child that looked to be about ten that attached herself to one of the families until the crowd had dispersed into the large spaceport. At least this one had been quiet in comparison to the one 8 days before. For that they all counted their blessings.

The shorthaired child was too busy to count much of anything. Her eyes darted here and there, always active for trouble. There was little that could be viewed as blessing-like in her experience anyway. She lugged her last carryon case as she moved through the port, scanning the prices of tickets and noticing that the cost of taking luggage nearly doubled the price of passage. Survival was her first priority and she lacked anything that smacked of luxury enough to be extra. Something would have to go, though. There was no way she could afford the case if she was to make it farther away from her demons. If they caught her… Well, she'd kill herself before she went back to that place.

Spaceports like this one were no place for a child to be alone. Space travel was a dangerous business in and of itself but the planetside bits of wakefulness could be hellish even for the experienced. Innocence lost, she had learned the lesson about dangerous individuals several months back at the spaceport before last. There she'd been caught unaware, pinned down by a local group of older boys wanting some fun. Luckily enough the encounter had been out in the open and one of the janitors had chased the gang off. Shortly thereafter she'd gotten much more careful, changed her clothing and hair, and adopted more of a boyish attitude.

The picture she presented was one of a tomboy. Because this port was well guarded she let her eyes drift over the girlish things that she'd never had as she wandered about; poking into the shops and in general acting like a tourist waiting to leave. Besides the small carryon case, she had a backpack, yet even that little was too much if the ticket prices were any indication. Maybe the backpack could be overlooked though, tucked between her feet perhaps? But the case? She'd have to ditch it. Damn, all her best clothes were in that case. Nearly everything good she owned was in that case. Fighting back tears, she hauled the bags with her as she looked around. She'd have to look over her meager belongings and decide what fit into the backpack. A short detour into a woman's restroom and a tearful goodbye to the various memories associated with each item she convinced herself that she had no use for later, she felt ready to do what needed to be done.

The port lacked the gangs that she was watching out for. Still, the place made her nervous. The time she had to be here would hopefully be short. Only hours had passed since she'd arrived, but having no place to go staying put appeared to be the best choice. She stuffed her last piece of luggage into a locker and fooled it into releasing the key. It was a handy trick she'd been taught back home by a fellow whose name she never bothered to learn. She shouldered her backpack and took in her surroundings. Hunger gnawed at her gut. She needed to scrounge up some food. The odors from the various eateries threatened to drive her to distraction. Having gone hungry before, it was nearly second nature to scheme about how to acquire food, for she would not have survived this long otherwise.

It was a nicer place than the last one she'd been through. Outer Conga's port looked like it had been hit by a bomb run and never cleaned up afterwards. In contrast to this clean and tidy port, it had been a slum. Even so, this port was old. She could see it was patched up and glossed over. There were spots on the walls that had been painted over to cover graffiti, threadbare tracks and stains in the carpets, mismatched chairs where those broken had been either repaired or replaced, and the furniture that wasn't mismatched was sun bleached or faded.

While hunger was a problem, her first stop would be the men's restrooms. Scope out the place; find out if she could make a few more UD's, and hunt out the supply rooms gather what she could… only once she was reasonably sure of her way around would she venture to eat. It was mid-afternoon here and the flights were spaced rather far apart. She guessed that the task would take the better part of the remaining day and keep her mind from wandering back down the already worn dark paths of her memories.

Her feet found the restrooms easy enough. She slipped inside unseen and looked around. One of the men's restrooms was perfect. She marked down its location in her mind before venturing to locate the supply areas. Those were slightly more difficult to find, but if she timed it right she could slip into the employee area unseen and rig the doors just so, making it easier to access the supply rooms later. Then came the task her stomach was grumbling about. Getting some food usually required some pretty fast footwork on her part.

She could scrounge in the trash if necessary, sure, but hot food meant either catching an eatery as they were closing for the night and being suitably pathetic or swiping something before the person who'd paid for it could come get it, without being seen doing so. With the latest load of people waiting to board an evening flight the task was accomplished easily and the resulting argument that erupted behind her between the clerk and customer totally ignored her role in the missing order. She slipped away to a quiet corner to eat the first food she'd gotten in several days that wasn't pre-packaged glop.

She ate slowly, keeping an eye out for trouble. Then she made her way back to the restrooms and tried her luck at swiping a few UD's from some of the richer looking folk that ventured into her reach. That occupied her until the last flight for the night boarded and she was left with nothing to do there. It was time to venture back into the storage rooms. Once there she looked for various things that might be useful. Her goal was to simply take stock of what was there and figure out how much she could get away with before being noticed. A mental inventory of the supply racks took several hours.

Yet, once the necessary things were done there was still too much time. This spaceport, like most others, stayed open even if few used it in the middle of the night. She couldn't do much when there weren't people around. She couldn't stay awake forever. The memories haunted her sleep. Echoes of what could have been but for the heartlessness that taunted her life. Even so she suffered pangs of homesickness when she heard the precious youthful voice that was forever gone…

The source of the heartsick ache she felt were her earliest memories of her mother's voice, "Audrey…" The sound had been so sweet once. So tender and full of love. She must have been happy then. Sometimes she remembered feeling a kiss on her forehead in the dark. Large, strong hands that made her feel so safe. And a rich warm scent, comforting, loving... If only it still existed that way, if only… Even in her sleep she tried to clutch to the happiness as it evaporated through her being like some mist drying out of the air in the face of an angry, hot sun.

It always sounded like a wreaking ball smashing into a house, getting closer…the noises becoming clearer. Voices shouting. The fights started… Screaming, objects breaking, hitting… Silence in the dark followed by, "…Audrey…." A plea, a whispered plea… a moan of pain, suppressed only when the hypo hissed… Whispers in the dark. Wasted whispers. Secrets never told. The happiness faded, becoming a dull struggle for survival laced with sharp thorns of bitterness. Her feeling of safety left. The scent somehow went away, replaced by sickly sweet sweat, stomach churning, mind numbing, cold...

Maybe her mother did not remember those secrets anymore, secrets of when there was love between them. Maybe it was too painful. Maybe it was the haze she wrapped her mind in. The haze Audrey bought her every time certain men stopped by for a favor… The haze that allowed her to survive the horror of her existence, the silence of her loss, the words she could never speak. It had been that way for most of her life, the fourteen years she knew that had passed because her next oldest sibling, her half-brother, would be turning 13 within a few weeks. It was an occasion that Audrey hadn't wanted to miss, and yet… everything had changed. Audrey understood now that she'd stayed because her mother had needed her and fled only after it was clear that she didn't need anything anymore. Now that her own life was her only care her feelings for her mother were becoming dull but at one time the duality of them had been sharp like blades cutting into her heart.

Audrey's feelings about her mother had been so mixed. Love and Hate, equal parts. Audrey went to see her just before she fled home, after struggling with the double nightmare of the twins and her pops' horrible abusive wrath for nearly a month while the Medics tried to wean the drugs out of her mother's system. Drugs that Audrey had bartered her skills to get. Mom looked so frail…. Wasted. Audrey had cried. 'Would the alternative have been better?' She had to wonder through her bloodstained tears. It seemed to rouse the woman in the hospital bed. "Audrey…." She remembered frail hands pressing yellowed paper into hers. Paper with a bank account number. A way to flee the nightmare, a way to leave… In the end her mother had given everything she had, and that paper was the last thing keeping her clinging to life. Alarm bells roused the hospital as she'd slipped away… Audrey had fled into the night, never to return.

Growing up had been rough, on that mining world, Sigma 3…. She had hated the place with a passion. It was dirty, smelly, and filled with drunken men that passed for guards. Anything of beauty had been destroyed there long before she was born. Only two classes existed on Sigma 3, those with papers, and those without. Pops had papers; Audrey and her mother did not. They were privileged slaves and not much more. She hated the fact that everyone worked for the man raising her. Or, rather the man waiting for her to grow up for his own evil purpose. She hated him for, well, everything. It would not have been bad, she reflected, if only he had treated her better. All the other kids in the family were doted on, but not her… Oh, no, she was the one who had to be responsible, pick up after the flock, make sure food was cooked, and the quarters were clean…. Because Mom was too wasted to lift a finger, Pops would beat worse her if stuff was not done, and, as he often reminded them both, they had no papers.

She had put up with everything until the twins were born, just seven months ago. Mom's habit had cooked their brains in the womb… they would always be helpless screaming bundles of pure agony. And the very day they had been born, hours after the medical verdict, Pops had come to her room…. Crimson pools on her pink-flowered sheets…. Crimson with her blood. He beat her for her deception, for calling the medics when Mom had gone into labor in a pregnancy he'd not known about, for not wanting to submit to his plans for her. Yet, she had tried to stay, for nearly a month... She had tried. Until he came to her room with his nightstick. Then she knew Mom was not coming home, and if she did not want to take her place she'd have to leave. So she ran…and was still running.

Her dreams always replayed the events of her life as if someone was trying to make her remember some part she was overlooking. She was still dreaming of the panicked dash away from the hospital, through the darkness and local flora, when a vacuum buzzed under her chair and jolted her awake. "Sorry, honey." The voice was tired, rough from too many smokes, and came from behind.

Audrey rubbed her eyes. "It's okay. I'll move," she looked around the spaceport. Somehow, she made it this far over the last half year. She had managed to make it to the Scorpio System. That in itself had to be a record of some kind. The speakers crackled with an announcement and a few moments later people were entering in through one of the docking gates. Perhaps there would be and opportunity for her to gather a few more UD's. Her mother's account had just enough for her to get this far. Audrey wasn't even sure the account had been her mother's, really. The clerks at the bank where she'd accessed the account used her fingerprint to open it up and remarked that it had been sealed for nearly a decade and a half. Whoever it had belonged to had left it so that only she could access the funds inside. Audrey withdrew all of it.

By sheer luck she found a ship that was safe to stow away on, one that kept life support on in the storage area. She had nearly frozen to death, but she'd been able to breathe and had plenty to eat. It had gotten her from Sigma 3 to Outer Conga. Five months of sneaking around in the ductwork of the ship and hoping to not get caught by the crew had tested her resourcefulness to the max. Somehow she survived it, managed to make the port entrance at the last stop, and had been lucky enough to not get raped a second time… After the encounter with the gang, getting off Outer Conga had been worth any cost. Maybe that had been a stupid decision. She'd caught a seat on the shuttle here, but the cost had reduced her finds to the point that she was realizing that any of the next stops were out of her reach. She was scrounging, desperate. Trying to make what she had go farther. Ditching whatever she could to make the ticket to the next stop cheaper. She worked the crowd, eyes darting among the bedraggled sleeper passengers still trying to come to grips with their abrupt exit from cryosleep as she moved over to the "help" area hoping to get lucky…

She picked her targets with care, spotting a woman with a girl about her size looking for the entire world like she'd lost all her possessions, "Hey, Lady! I got some girls clothes I'll sell you." Audrey had cut her hair to her shoulders some time back, and then to chin length at Outer Conga. Not safe to travel as a girl alone she'd discovered. Her boyish appearance was furthered with a careful walk and layered boys clothes. What she had arrived with should sell nicely. They were her best things and barely worn. The woman and her daughter looked at her with some surprise. "I'm not charging much… 25 UD for three dresses and a pair of shoes, hardly used…" She grinned at the girl and said, "They'd go nice with your earrings, want to see them?" Overcoming their surprise, they agreed. She led them back to her locker. "I'd sell you the luggage too, if you want it."

"It is yours and not stolen?" the brown haired and skinned woman cautiously asked.

"Yep, it's mine. I can't afford to purchase space for luggage, and my next trip will be in cryo anyhow. Plus you look like you need the clothes," Audrey pulled off her cap and gave them her best 'girl' smile. The other girl laughed, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. She looked up at her mother with a pleading look. Meanwhile, the woman had looked over the strange girl and decided that she was on the up and up. The smile reassured her and she sighed with relief. "See I even rented a locker," Audrey pulled out the key and put it in the lock.

"How much then for the luggage?" the woman asked.

"Well, it's a bit beat up. Maybe 5UD's?" She let the woman and her daughter look over the clothing, the shoes, and the luggage for a few minutes.

Then the woman pulled out her wallet and counted out 28 UD's, "I don't have enough, what about I give you this and buy you breakfast? I have credit."

"Sure, that's fair. I'll take 28 cash and a meal." Audrey took the money and let the girl carry the bag as they walked over to a food shop. The woman ordered a well-rounded breakfast on a bun, juice, and a bag of dried fruit and gave it to Audrey. "Thanks. I hope your stuff arrives."

"Thank you, dear. I hope you get to where you are going safely." They mother and daughter walked away, the new luggage in hand. Neither noticed the tears in Audrey's eyes. She just wished she knew where that safe place would be. So where could she go from here? The real question. She wandered off to look at the various loading gates. Most of the names were the wrong direction. A few were total unknowns. After staring at the fifteen or so choices that were within her budget Audrey ventured to ask the clerk at one of the unknown places if the stop was closer to the Helion system. The clerk looked at her like she was stupid. Tangiers, she was informed, was the direction she needed to go if New Mecca was where she was looking to end up. Audrey headed back the direction the clerk pointed. Tangiers was out of her budget. 100 UD's more than she had for the cheapest, most dangerous, death box ticket and no luggage space. And the next flight was nearly 2 days away. It might as well be a thousand UD's… But there was no sense in moping. She'd either get stuck here or she'd find a way to get on that flight.

Audrey sat down and stared at the news wave soundlessly flashing by as her mind worked over the situation and sought the best solution. Scenes of mayhem and gore flashed unnoticed in front of her as she focused on her personal problems. She hated to steal, but what other solution was there? Could she hack into the systems and fake a set of hardship papers? Not likely… at least not here. She'd just have to get the 100UD's… And she already knew where there was a perfect place to wait for stray wallets. She decided to scrounge in the restrooms and see what showed up. Slipping into the men's bathrooms, Audrey picked a stall and locked the door. Soon some smuck would come in and let his pants down. It was easy to pick most pockets that way. Although sometimes she didn't have to, once in a while she would "happen" to find a fellow's wallet and get a few UD's for returning it. She settled in to wait. It was not long.

A man came into the john; "Your next ship for Tangiers leaves when?" He was talking into a com link. "Yeah, but I got a commercial ship leaving in a less than 44 hours. I can't afford to wait until next week." He stopped at a urinal and went about his business there. As the tinkling reached her ears, Audrey peaked out the cracks of the stall and noticed his tall frame, cropped red hair, and blue company uniform. "I got to take a shit." He told the person on the other end of the line. He turned and looked at the stalls…Audrey ducked back. She had picked the nastiest looking one; complete with an out of order sign, but the stalls to either side were the cleanest of the bunch. "No. It's not a matter of cost," he said as he moved toward the stall on Audrey's left, "It's a matter of time. The longer I sit here, the more likely the son of a bitch will…Oh, fuck you. It doesn't matter how I caught him. All that matters is that his eye-shined ass is mine, and so is the bounty." The man's pants crumpled to the floor and the seat creaked as he sat.

By this time Audrey had nearly forgotten about the UD's. 'Eye-shined….' The news headlines flickered in her mind's eye. There was only one person who had ever been proven to be 'eye-shined' and that person was the escaped convict, Richard B. Riddick. 'Hadn't he been found on the outer planet of the Conga system, a week before? Was this the Officer who had caught him? Didn't I just see that at the newsstand? Hell, I was just there two days ago...' The man shifted his leg and his pants disgorged his bank-fold at her feet. Or had she lifted it? She stared at the worn brownish leather, frozen for a moment, waiting to see if the item would be noticed by its absence. Several minutes passed as the man continued to talk. "Well, fine…You can't hustle up a ship, what about a secure cryo-chamber?" He was scratching - Audrey could only imagine where - after a lengthy pause the one-sided conversation continued, "Great, yes. I'll settle for the chamber. Can I get it like really soon? Several hours? Yeah, Okay. Let me text you the address," there was a rustle of clothing followed by beeping. He was so occupied that he had not noticed the missing billfold.

'Right, wallet…' She snatched it up. The man sighed as a wet plopping noise concluded why he was in the stall in the first place. Audrey squeezed her eyes closed tightly and sat still. Now the only decision was if she should take the UD's or return the wallet and hope for the best. Somehow she doubted that returning the wallet would get her anything…. But stealing from a Cop could get her into deep shit. He still hadn't noticed it was gone. The toilet auto-flushed but the man remained in the stall. His clothing rustled like he was putting away his com-link. His pants did not move. He was in no hurry to get up.

She had no desire to remain where she was listening to him wank or whatever he was doing either. Yet, if she moved and alerted him to her being there, the consequences would be very very bad. The seat protested under the man's weight but he still wasn't coming out. She held her breath for a moment longer. Then unable to stand it any longer Audrey made a decision.

Very quietly she slipped out from under the door. Then she made like she was coming in. The man remained in the stall. He was not coming out. She heard some small clicks that sounded vaguely familiar. 'A hypo?' but there was no hiss. Audrey pulled out a small balloon that she'd filled with water and tinkled it into a urinal, making sure to zip, tinkle, flick and zip. The man in the stall blew his nose and spat on the floor. His seat creaked as he settled his full weight into it. After a few minutes Audrey left the restroom. She had expected the man to come out of the stall, but it seemed he was intent on taking a nap in it.

For once in her life Audrey was unsure of what to do. The billfold had more than enough to get her to Tangiers and beyond. Something was not right, though. If she dumped the wallet after taking the UD's she had a feeling that she'd be caught. So, she still had the wallet. Trying to act like she belonged at a certain spot for a long period of time was quite a challenge. She finally settled down and made it look like she was napping under some old papers. Hours passed before the tall flame-haired man in a blue company uniform emerged from the washroom. Audrey studied him as he passed her without a second glance. He was not an ugly fellow. Rather striking really, for a hype. A drugged-up cop, what a combination! Her past gave her plenty of experience with this and she knew the look - the glassy eyes, the somewhat gaunt face, the slightly off sway to the walk. Oh, too well. If she was going to return the wallet the best time was when he was not likely to remember her face, 'Now or never,' she thought. 'At least he won't be thinking clearly.' Audrey slipped in behind him and followed him the length of the terminal. They were almost to the door when she finally spoke, "Hey, mister… You lose something?"

The man stopped and turned, a 'shove off,' response ready on his lips, until he saw the wallet. Audrey noticed that his blue eyes were still sharp even if his reaction was slowed somewhat. He was aware enough for a look of recognition to flicker over his drug-hazed expression as his eyes focused on the folded leather in her hand. "Um, maybe, kid…. Where did you find that?" The tilt of his head revealed immediate suspicion and Audrey could picture him reaching for his sidearm as he walked toward her with a slightly unsteady sway in his swagger. Any lesser girl might have dropped the wallet and run but Audrey stood her ground. There were layers of messages in his eyes. He was a killer -- dangerous, violent, and ruthless -- and he hid behind his nickel-slick badge. There was coldness to his eyes, coldness that called up images of the man who raised her. Fear would not do, not now. Audrey focused on his shiny star pinned to his deep blue jacket. It read 'Johns, William J.' Even though she was fighting it; something fluttered in Audrey's chest like a captured wild bird with its wings beating against the bars of a cage. She forced herself to breathe. Then the man gave her a slow smile that did not reach his eyes, "I imagine, kid, that you'd like something for giving that back."

Audrey's mind screamed for her to cut and run. Johns wore a nightstick in his boot. She forced herself to ignore the familiar shaped handle and the phantom pain her body seemed unable to forget. "No, mister," She lied, "Just returning what isn't mine. How about you tell me something that should be in here so I can make sure that it's yours?" Somehow she found the strength to meet his blue eyes with her honey colored ones. She was shocked at how suddenly clear they seemed to be. Her gaze stopped his advance. They stood an arm's length apart, facing one another. Her words must have sounded truthful.

Actually to Johns, it did sound truthful. It seemed like the most honest thing he'd ever heard. And it stayed his violent impulse to choke the life out of the _child_ standing in front of him. Still he couldn't shake the impression that this kid was up to no good. The conflicting signals made his head spin and him quick to answer, "My ID. Should match the badge. You didn't take that did you?"

Audrey tore her gaze off of him and opened the flap to the cardholder. She flipped through it, ignoring his question. She knew exactly where his ID was, but it would not benefit her to flip right to it. Johns continued to watch her very closely. His eyes burned into her as she slowly worked her way toward his ID card. Her heart fluttered around again. Johns was not as drugged out as she originally believed. She stopped at the ID and showed it to him. "William J. Johns, huh? Hey, ain't you the guy who was just in the news?" Audrey managed an excited tone. "Wow, I never thought I'd meet someone who'd been a story." She made a show of closing the wallet back up without looking at the amount of UD's in it before handing it back. "So, could I get an autograph Mr. Johns? I mean— well. No, its too much bother…"

The leather was still warmed by the kid's fingers as Johns snatched the wallet away. He could clearly see when the youth confirmed the ID that the money in the wallet was still there. So the kid _had_ been honest and trying to do the right thing by telling him his wallet was missing. He closed his eyes feeling just a bit blurred. Could it be that he'd nearly screwed up and choked the life out of a kid trying to do the right thing? He felt his pocket and noticed that the top edge was torn slightly where Riddick had grabbed him. It was entirely possible that the wallet had fallen out on its own. Then to top it off the kid was asking for an autograph… Okay, he was flattered, for sure, by this boy handing back his billfold. Still, the last rise was not quite mellowed out yet and he really wanted to be off in his own world. He struggled to maintain a coherent idea about what was going on. The conflicting signals he was picking up had to be the dope. This boy was a good kid, he determined…might as well reward the good behavior, "Yeah, Okay, kid…Here." He opened up the wallet and dropped an uncounted amount of UD notes on the ground. That should do it but just to make sure the boy didn't try to follow him out of the spaceport he added, "Now, leave me alone, alright?"

Audrey hustled to collect the cash before someone else scooped it up. She knew Johns was walking away and not even looking back at her. Her heart settled back down. 'Ass,' Audrey thought. She couldn't believe she'd actually asked him for his autograph like some big fan. She also was astonished that he'd fallen for it. Johns was a crooked cop at best, a Merc at worst… But he'd surprised her with the reward, slight as it seemed to be. Only a tiny fraction of what he was carrying around ended up on the floor. There was a handful of UD's, all singles it appeared. Well, then she was a handful of UD's closer to that ticket. Audrey stuffed the bills into her tiny holder and retreated back into the spaceport to search for another loose billfold.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Johns made his way out into the thin, chilled, overly harsh daylight. At least he knew that his bounty would not be leaving the location he'd left him at without eye protection of some kind. It took him over an hour to make his way back to the hotel using public transport. The cryo chamber would be delivered to the port in the morning but the security cage should be waiting for him in the lobby, and getting Riddick into it would let him catch at least one night's normal sleep.

Walking into the hotel lobby was like walking into – a war zone. He was quickly informed that an employee had noticed his high security door was ajar and placed the floor into lockdown. Only problem was that the security sensors on that level had been knocked out and they had no way of knowing if the problem guest was still there or not. Local authorities refused to get involved unless Riddick was declared to be out of Merc boundaries. Johns could feel the throb start back up in his spine. "Cage?" He asked.

"Your delivery is waiting in the securing room, Marshall. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to charge you for any damages that have been incurred on the 4th floor," the manager informed him.

Johns pinched the bridge of his nose, "Yeah. I figured as much. You got my tab info?" The manager nodded. "Put it there. You'll get paid faster that way."

"Very good. Here's a security key to bypass the locks on the access doors. The cage shall be delivered via the far lift, and you'll need your Guild ID to open the door."

Johns took the security key and made his way up to the floor he'd rented. If Riddick was smart he'd realize that there was no way out and that Johns had rented here just because the hotel was set up to deal with this type of situation. But then, Riddick never thought inside the box, so to speak. Johns spent the remainder of the day and the better part of the night just looking for the ex-ranger. He ended up paying some of the other mercs in the facility to provide extra firepower to convince the con that playing nice was the only way he'd survive. Riddick must have seen something in the blue-eyed devil's claim that he was looking at passage in a body bag because shortly before dawn he gave up and allowed himself to be secured into the cage.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Her luck was bad. Twelve hours wasted. She camped out in the storeroom she'd slipped into the first day. At least the door hadn't been fixed yet. Her pack was uncomfortable so she pulled everything out and rearranged it. She stopped and stared at her small moneybox. It was a small sized mint tin, really. She flipped it in her hands, looking it over before opening it. Counting her UD's sometimes made her feel better. Right now she needed an emotional lift. So how much was she worth? She counted the bills she had remaining from the account and then added the reward she'd gotten from Johns. Yep an additional handful of singles, but wait…some of them were kind of new and sticky. She got a plastic glove out of a box and worked up some static. One was larger than a single. She stared at the bill disbelieving her eyes. She rubbed them, blinked and looked again. It was the 100UD note she needed. Tangiers was within reach. And she had less than 24 hours to wait. So her luck wasn't so rotten after all. She decided to go back out to the loading gates and wait for the ticket clerk to arrive in the morning.

Audrey must have dozed off again as she waited near the ticket counter for the flight heading to Tangiers. She woke with a start as the lady setting up opened the blinds behind her allowing the bright morning sun to cut into the seating area. Audrey had wondered how the seats here had gotten bleached out…now she knew. She blinked into the light for a moment then decided that her first course of action this morning would be to get a cheap ticket to Tangiers. The clerk didn't much care. She didn't bother with the standard warnings that the flight would come without insurance unless she upgraded. Audrey knew already what the risks were. There was no one who she cared about enough to pay the extra for anyhow. The woman shoved a stack of papers toward her. "You can fill them out over there." The woman pointed. "Please take the time to read what you are signing, as the company reserves all rights listed within. If you do not fully sign all the papers your ticket will be void." The woman sounded like a recording. It was not like anyone actually checked these things, Audrey thought. But if she was to travel as a boy she'd better sign everything with a boy's name. So who should she be? 'Um, Jack B. Badd. Haha…god, how clever,' such drippy sarcasm. Still she could come up with nothing better, so Jack B. Badd was what she signed on every page. She approached the counter, turned the papers in, and paid for her ticket. The woman at the counter never even looked up. "Here you go." Audrey took the ticket, walked the length of the spaceport and settled down for a day's wait. Her mind wandered…

It wandered back into all of those dark places that she hated to go. It seemed no matter what she tried to think about there are always something bad associated with it. She tried thinking about some lady's floral print skirt and drew comparisons to the rather dead conditions she'd left behind. Flowers need dirt. Sigma 3 had plenty of dirt, but no flowers. Then she tried her new name: Jack… Angered male words floated in her mind, "You don't know jack!" Audrey couldn't recall how many times she'd heard that saying, for 'you're really stupid.' She heard screams and sobs – fighting. Her mind just couldn't let it go. She was back in the baby's room with the other kids hiding in the back closet. The lights were off. "You don't know jack-shit, woman!" The man of the house was yelling it at her mother. Again. She tried to back off from the memories, to put a third person perspective to it. She forced herself to reframe the sounds she heard into a descriptive passage so it was not her life. 'Please let it not be my life. Just a bad dream, yeah, those sounds, that scared little girl, not me. It's not my mom getting beat up. Not my ears hearing sounds of flesh hitting flesh, sobs, and hushed pleas for him to stop. Not me….'

What surprise was there that it began to work a bit? Jack was floating above the scene, not part of it, 'So that's where you got my name, huh? What else should I know about you Audrey? How about you let me see your greatest fear?' For a moment Audrey felt threatened by this new voice in her head. Then it said, 'Oh, come on! You created me. Let me protect you. Show me what you're scared of so I know. I'm not gonna hurt you.'

She wanted to believe it. Really she did. 'Okay, Jack. Here it is.' Silence. The dark house filled with silence. She had been never been more fearful than during the stone silence of those last nights. The medics had refused to release her mother from the hospital, even though he had demanded it. There had been a deadly silence in his voice as he spoke over the comm. She was cold. She couldn't move. 'Not me…Please let it not be me…'

Jack popped out of the scene. That little girl, so tiny, so still. The man walking down the hall. Jack could see it like the roof was missing on the house. The girl paralyzed in her bed in the dark and the man coming into her room, his nightstick in his hand. Somehow Jack knew what the man was thinking, what his plan was. That girl would replace the woman he'd lost control of. Nothing Jack could do about the past, now. But at least he knew why they were running. Poor little Audrey.


	3. Meeting Friends

**A/N:** this is a revised version of chapter 3 and has nearly a thousand more words in it. Most of the new has to do with filling out the Shazza-Zeke-Jack relationship character a bit. Also added Jack's claim of being a runaway. I don't own, so don't sue

_A Passage 3: _

**Meeting friends…**

Paperwork finished, dreams chased away by nerves that wouldn't let her sleep unless utterly exhausted, Jack was strung out along a line of chairs waiting to board her transport, something to take her further away from the nightmares. She watched as other travelers settled in to wait. It was early still for this flight, so most avoided the dock she was at, but soon a couple camped out at the terminal. Many of the other passengers for other fights seemed to give the new pair a wide birth. It was easy to see why with the tall green-eyed woman's fierce beauty and sculpted form that matched her dark-skinned male companion perfectly. They wore rough clothes and carried weapons openly. And interestingly enough, none of the port security gave them any shit about it.

Jack observed them for a bit. In spite their gruffness in appearance and the seemingly wild air about them, they seemed to be a nice pair, well suited for each other. They looked like a couple that had spent many years together and had built up intuitive knowledge of their collective strengths and weaknesses. Yet they flirted with each other like sweethearts newly enamoured with one another. It was like a romance vid or something surreal. They spoke in quiet tones that Jack found calming. Something about the pair called to Jack like a siren song. Try as she might she was unable to ignore it. Finally, she stood up and introduced herself to them. Since she had decided to travel as a he the introductions made was: "Hi, I'm Jack. You going to Tangiers?"

There was something about the bold child that seemed to strike a chord in Sharon Montgomery. Normally she and Zeke would stay unattached to other passengers on any boat they boarded. But Zeke nudged her shoulder and made his characteristic 'Share, yah?' motion when it came to this particular amber-eyed child. Shazza had almost signaled no, yet in spite of her long standing habits she had taken the food and passed it to the youngster. Then Zeke had surprised her by not only sharing their names but also going as far as explaining where they were heading, "Hay, mate. Zeke, here," He tapped himself with a finger. "Shazza, my squeeze," he indicated the dark haired woman who rolled her eyes, "No flirtin' from you, young man." Zeke shook a teasing finger Jack's direction. "Off on a hunt, we are. Takin' backroads, ghost lanes, like this one. The way of our life, ain't that so, Shazza?" Shazza looked like she was suppressing laugher but nodded, rather too shocked at the stream of words coming out of Zeke's mouth to shut him up. "Got ourselves a right nice job, far, far past the civilized Tangiers. Out in the wilds, just like dreamtime should be. But stopping there?" He paused to raise an eyebrow and open a pack of food himself, "Yeah, we must have to," he made a face. "Or we'd not be taking this flight, mate."

Jack felt instantly at home with the man. His expression of distaste made her want to giggle, even. But did boys giggle? Likely not. So Jack smiled as she followed suit and opened her own package of food. It would be rude to not eat what was offered, after all. Zeke smiled and seemed to transform back into a quiet, calm, easily overlooked entity. But his black eyes twinkled as they met her amber gaze showing that the clown was still there underneath the exterior of deadly quiet.

"You alone, hon?" Shazza asked as she watched Jack nod to her first question and waited for the child's mouth to empty with some amusement, "Why so?"

"Mum just died and my step-dad is sending me to live with an Uncle," Jack finally answered.

Something about that story felt false. It bothered her, as seeing a child alone was unusual. If Jack was fibbing though, there was likely a good reason for it.

Jack noticed the look, "Well, ok. Not totally true. I'm running away, not being sent. I've got an uncle on Tangiers though that sent me the money for the ticket and is waiting for me. He didn't like my step-dad and blames him for my Mum's death. It's her brother, see. My step-dad wouldn't approve. I don't really care. I'm going anyhow."

'Gutsy brat,' Shazza though, 'Maybe Zeke is right about this one. Could even become a bushwhacker someday.' She decided that Zeke's impromptu adoption of the youth was good enough, "Well then, Zeke and I will make sure you get to Tangiers, luv." The woman smiled at Jack with genuine warmth.

Zeke, as he silently listened to the entire short conversation, gave out food until Jack was sure there was none left. And after, he draped a blanket over the child's apparently sleeping form. But Jack continued to watch the pair through lidded eyes and was enthralled by what she could see. These two had something that her parents never had. It was alien to Jack's young eyes yet she yearned for it. For the first time in months she felt safe, fed, and warm, and … so exhausted. The lull of the background noise carried her away into the land of her nightmares.

Audrey twitched as the events of her last night at home replayed themselves again. The footsteps in the hall…the door creaking open…the jagged breathing…the nightstick against her struggling flesh. Fresh scarlet on the sheets and on the slick black surface of the weapon he held in his bloody fist. A new kind of blood slick in a place she'd never been threatened before, a new kind of pain threatening to split her being into fragments, a new horror that her young mind was not yet able to deal with. It never failed to send her bolt upright.

The movement caught Shazza and Zeke's attention. The both watched, unsure of how to deal with the situation. It sure looked like the boy was struggling against something or someone… It was a relief when Jack sat up, clearly wide-awake but unseeing of his current environment. This Shazza had some experience with. She moved over to his side and kneeled down giving Jack something to focus on. The dark-haired woman looked at the boy with compassion. It had to be hard, traveling alone, at that age. She guessed that the child was perhaps ten. By his lack of luggage she assumed that his travels had not been very kind. He had eaten like it had been days since his last meal, too. Shazza kindly ran a hand over his elven face. His flushed skin was covered with a sheen of cold sweat. She slipped his cap off and gently tousled his brown hair. "It's okay, Jack. Whatever is haunting you is gone. Some water?"

Jack nodded. This woman was nice. So not like her mother. Her eyes were clear, intelligent, and alive. She was comforting. Zeke came over with a water-bag. "I'd not drink the water here without filtering it first. So, I don't expect you to either. It'll make you sick." He held out the clear bag. Jack took it and sucked at the corner where the water would come through. She'd seen this type of container before, at the mines. The guards carried them for emergencies, personal ones. The workers went without. Zeke noticed that she knew how to use one, "You been around a bit, haven't you, Jack?"

She stopped sucking and looked at him, wondering if he'd be angry. Instead she saw understanding. "Had these back home in the emergency kits, mister," Jack answered. "Doesn't everyone know about these?" Zeke and Shazza smiled about the answer. They really smiled. And when their eyes met Jack could see that they very much loved one another. She was pained again for a moment with a longing to be part of that emotion. Life sucked. Her parents had never looked at each other that way. Her mother was always too wasted; Pops was always too cold. She looked away from them, blinking back moisture that threatened to fill her eyes. 'Boys don't cry,' she internally scolded, 'and now you're a boy. So just stop it.' The sun was just lighting up the horizon, creating a faint shift in the color of the sky. Jack handed Shazza the blanket. "We got a few hours still, don't we?" Shazza nodded. "I'm gonna go to the john, then. Don't leave without me." She tried to joke. It came up flat.

She took her time in the washroom, careful to enter the correct one for her guise. Amazing how easy it became after the first time. Jack washed his face. 'His, I'm a he,' The thought was a mantra, if repeated enough would it be true? She felt something odd, something moist. 'Ah, fuck. No…' Had it been a month already? The girl inside panicked. It had to be. She dug in her pant pockets. She'd have to get into that storeroom again.

Jack slipped out of the washroom. After looking to see if she was being watched she hurried down the terminal until reaching the 'employee only' door that led to a hallway connected into various supply rooms. Likely that door should be locked, but someone trusted the sign to keep people out. It opened easily. The hall was empty, silent, and dimly lit. Once before at another spaceport she had discovered a need to acquire an item or two. Had it really been a month ago? It seemed like yesterday, really. Then again her entire last year was like a blur sometimes. Jack quickly and quietly bee-lined to the door, her heart fluttering like she was about to get caught. No one was there. She had no reason to be afraid. She tried the door when she reached it. It was still gummed up. She gave it a push in just the right spot for it to click open. She slipped inside and pulled the door shut behind her. Jack stood in the darkened room and scanned the shelves. Not much had changed since she'd been in there the day before. It looked like the janitors had not been in there at all. Why had she not filled her pockets before? Stupid oversight, really. She risked getting caught every time she did this. But who would miss a .10 UD item? She really doubted that anyone kept track of the stuff in here. It was just the idea that she'd broken into the room. 'Hell, get what you came for and get out,' she scolded herself.

There was a broken into package of what she needed right in front. Right where she expected them to be, same place as the day before. The moisture reminded her again why she was there. 'I wish I was a boy sometimes… I really do. This sucks so bad. Man, I feel like I'm gonna cramp up. I'm gonna be sick….' Part of her dreaded the cold air as she stripped quickly, forcing herself past the point of argument. Her underpants were stained, freshly so. Bile threatened to rise in her throat as her muscles begin to knot up in her middle. Damn it was cold in here. Why hadn't she noticed that tiny fact before? And there was nothing but an old coat of paint between her shoeless toes and the concrete floor. The cold sucked the heat out of her legs. Cryo was going to be a bitch, too, Jack realized suddenly. _Damn_ cold. The sink was on the back wall. Jack padded over to it, feeling the hair rise on her arms as she goose-pimpled. Shivering now, she turned on the cold water knowing that hot water would just set the stain. Her fingers ached as she washed the underpants out in the utility sink and wrung out as much water as physically possible.

Now that she was cold to the bone she stared at the wet clothing. Putting it back on would be very uncomfortable. What to do? She shuffled back to her pants, trying to hug herself to keep from losing more body heat. She had one old pair… maybe they would still fit. She dug them out of the pocket. They were hard, wrinkled, and stained, but at least the stain was old and they were dry. She contorted up her face. Once upon a time she'd refuse to put them on, but now she had no choice. Either these or the wet pair. She opted for the dryness, fitted the sanitary napkin into place, and put her pants and shoes back on. Her muscles still were in knots. Okay…there had to be a medicine kit or refills for one in here somewhere too. But first she had to take care of the wet underwear. She looked at the water bag. It was empty but the plastic would keep the moisture from seeping through her pocket. She opened up one seam of the bag carefully, wadded and stuffed the damp clothing into it and tied it shut. With any luck she'd not need to do this again until reaching Tangiers. Jack piped up, 'Since when has your luck been good, Audrey? Like never, huh?'

She cringed at the tone in the voice that whispered through her mind. It was true, really. Her luck usually was sucky. She glanced around and located the supplies she needed before carefully filling her pockets and backpack with things that might be useful. All the while she kept her ears open for any noise coming from the hall beyond. She did not open any bags, nor did she empty any out of fear that she'd be caught if someone noticed changes. Still she managed to get a hold of enough stuff that she felt okay about it when she opened up the pain medication to ease her cramps. Then she carefully made her way back to the door that led to the main loading area.

oOoOoOoOoOo

After a manhunt the night before, no sleep for what seemed forever, living off the high…Johns was more than a little uptight as he ordered a herd of security guards that were supposed to be helping him move his charge from the hotel lockup to the port. Yeah, he'd fucked up. He left Riddick alone for an hour too long and almost lost him. Came back to the hotel and found it in shambles and his bounty gone… Luckily, blindfolded and shackled it hadn't gone far. Johns and the hotel security spent the entire night searching for the large man only to discover him holed up in a janitor's closet trying to get the chains off less than three rooms down. Then he discovered that the hotel was charging for overtime staffing on top of damage done and a 100 UD note was missing from his billfold. He put the charges on credit. Let Riddick pay for it when they got to Tangiers. Let Riddick pay when he fried.

People scattered from the horde of blue clad, armed, nervous men that formed a parameter around a tightly bound, straining, muscular figure. Shazza and Zeke watched the mass approach, talked it over for a moment and then moved over to a newsstand well out of the way with their belongings. They recognized Johns at the rear, giving orders like a slave driver. Shazza began to look for Jack. Better get the boy out of the way of this mess, she thought. Besides Jack seemed like a tough kid, with much promise, and she was thinking about taking him in and teaching him the trade.

Riddick calmly guessed that he was not getting out of this. It had taken too long to break the cuffs at the hotel, and he'd gotten caught. Johns was acting more paranoid than usual. The binds were tight, very tight. And the bit was far too harsh, really. 'He doesn't want me talking, that's all.' Talking about Butcher Bay, or Slam City, or those kids' needless deaths… No, Johns did not want Riddick talking. It was too good of a scam. Too bad it had to end. Then there was the blindfold. While he was somewhat grateful for the protection from the strong sun even if he couldn't see, the thick stiff covering also was uncomfortable. And something told Riddick that he had to get away, somehow. He could almost believe that the pain was telling him 'Last Chance.' The only good thing about this was that he did not have to walk. That alone gave him time to smell out his environment. What was it that he was trying to place? So it was a spaceport. It smelled like a spaceport. But there was something – familiar…

oOoOoOoOoOo

She heard it before she saw it. The noise of mismatched marching feet and muffled orders rumbled through the door as she paused to let it pass. She heard the creak of metal wheels and the rattling of chains. 'What the fuck is going on?' Her ears picked up hushed sobs from a frightened child as she huddled behind the door. The noise evenly receded. She had to catch her breath. The port was filled with security guards now. Was Johns here? That had to be it. She'd forgotten that Riddick was going to be in this ship. She swallowed and cracked open the door enough to look out. Everything seemed normal again. The passage of the throng was forgotten as soon as it was out of sight. Even the child was quiet. Slipping out, Jack began to trace her way back to Shazza and Zeke. By the time she made it there, a swarm of port security nearly filled the seating area. They milled about like a bunch of riled up giant blue ants. Every type of guard wore blue it seemed. All of them had guns. A few had stunning sticks or worse. They formed a moving wall as they roamed around keeping the curious at bay.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Riddick's nose caught the familiar odor again. It was becoming stronger, but he still couldn't place where or what it reminded him of. He focused his attention on it. It was like a speck of something pleasant in his otherwise ugly life. Like a flower trying to grow through cracks in old, pitted, blacktop caught in a ray of sunlight. And he clutched it in his mind and held onto it even though he could not identify the source of the smell. It lifted him out of the brutal situation he found himself in just enough to make it possible to endure it. He was able to relax his shoulders and back just enough to defuse the potential damage from the overly tight bonds. Whatever—no, whoever-- the source of the scent was he knew he would likely not get any closer.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Shazza and Zeke watched from the little newsstand for Jack. Port security was doing its best to act as if this was routine when clearly it was highly irregular. Zeke considered catching a different ship, but realized that would make them lose their next job. They couldn't afford that if they were going to take on Jack. And for once, more than anything, he wanted to take on this kid. He was less than happy with the situation. It was like fate dropped the child he and Shazza always wanted into their laps, dangling it like a treasure, only to snap it away. If something happened to the boy… 'Oh, damn that Johns! What the hell is he thinking?' By all accounts this was not the proper way to transport such a dangerous convict. Even he knew that. 'How in Gods Name did he get anyone to agree to this stunt?' Zeke focused his anger on Johns and balled his fists up tight.

Jack slowed in her approach. 'Yeah, there he is,' the thought echoed around Jack's head as her eyes settled on Riddick. Not spotting Shazza's attempt to get her attention, Jack crept forward until she could see more than just the glints of metal bars securing his broadly shouldered, muscular form and naturally tanned skin. Jack could tell he was strained in his current position, forced unnaturally still by efficient bars that formed a kind of cage around him. The man's arms bulged with effort as he alternatively flexed and relaxed them to keep the circulation going in what would have been an otherwise dangerous position for his hands. Large hands balled into tight knotted fists, Jack noted. His head was nearly bald, he had perhaps a week's growth of hair on both his jaw and his skull. He was blindfolded with a thick piece of leather and a harsh-looking bit distorted his mouth. Jack was mesmerized. The black garbed man was Riddick. A tingle raced up her spine. She would be on the same ship.

Not until one of the security personal caught her up by the shoulder did she realize that she was still moving slowly toward the scene. "Kid, you don't wanna go there," the male guard told her. Jack barely heard him. Her eyes drifted over the scene moving until she spotted Johns. It was his hair that made him stand out. That darn flame-red tightly-curled head of hair. Johns was arguing with the head of security about how slowly things were going. He was calm enough, but his body language was just as strained as his captive's. He was holding back an emotional explosion it seemed. That or he really needed another fix. He blanched slightly as Jack watched. She couldn't hear the conversation though, so it could have been over something being said. The guard was still talking, Jack was aware that he'd never really stopped, "…you listening?"

Over by the newstand Shazza finally spotted Jack. "Damn, that child is going to get into a shit load of trouble." Zeke ignored her. "Zeke, I'm going to go get Jack."

"Ay, luv. Take the badge," he managed as he tore his own gaze off the redheaded menace long enough to pass it to her.

A few seconds later found Shazza interrupting the guard holding the youth; "The boy is a paying customer. You might want to take that into account," She was still approaching, weapons visible, as she continued, "He can wait with us until you get the other two loaded." She held out her hand, showing the guard something that convinced him that Jack was not worth the trouble. He released her to Shazza. The green-eyed woman took Jack by the arm and led the boy back towards where Zeke was standing. The move forced the smaller youth to look away from Johns and Riddick. "Very stupid, Jack. You are a smart kid, but those guards are strung very tight. Anything goes wrong and there will be bullets flying everywhere." Jack nodded and looked at the guards more closely. Shazza was right. They were very nervous with Riddick in their midst even if he appeared completely secured.

"Sorry, " Jack looked at Shazza and managed a most convincing apologetic expression.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The pause at the loading area was only a temporary one. Riddick almost lost track of time as he focused on a wispy, half-formed image in his mind. An image triggered by the scent he found himself so intent on. It was not that he could identify much about it. Only that eventually his mind would locate the memories connected to that scent or a very similar one. Eventually. It was like a puzzle. It was something to do.

Another part of his brain informed him that this was a commercial ship, at a commercial port, soon to be filled with paying passengers of the most innocent sort. Johns was loading him up with civilians.

Really stupid. He smelled enough to know that he would have time, plenty of time, to escape. He heard talk about a secure Cryo-chamber arriving, questions about how to get him into it. Not that he cared. Once outside he'd look for a mistake. All he needed was one tiny slip…

Johns got them moving. He feared this part more than anything besides landing. In most situations he could count on Riddick doing the predictable thing, but Riddick was becoming just a bit more unpredictable as of late. Or _he_ was getting sloppy. Had to be the dope. Damn that last shiv fight. Yesterday Riddick had been full of fire, violent, and ready to make a run for it. And had nearly slipped him. Today the large man was quiet, calm. Too calm. He was even relaxed although the cage and cuffs had to be painful. Johns just couldn't wrap his mind around how Riddick managed to embrace his pain like it was an old, well-known lover. The more he pushed his prisoner, the less he understood about him.

With creaking wheels and grunting men marking the passage, Riddick was moving again. This time the guards struggled to lower the heavy, old cage down the ramps and stairs. He smelled their fear. What could he do? The bit kept him from even speaking, so there was really no reason for them to worry about him attacking, yet. Johns was behind him, "Don't drop the mother-fucker, okay? I don't think your ancient equipment would survive it." The guards doing the work suppressed groans and curses. Riddick heard a sadistic chuckle escape from his bitted mouth. Had Johns been in front the sound would have earned him a nightstick to the face, but at it was he only got a "Shut the trap up, you piece of shit."

There was a pause, the groan of a door being opened that likely had been closed for years, and then cold thin air ripped into him like a thousand tiny knives. Only by the change in smells could he tell that they were outside now. It had to be near freezing out on the landing platform. Riddick felt his arms threaten to tighten. He forced them to go slack. Shivering would make getting away difficult. Not even the sun, bright as the light was, could warm the frigid wind whipped air. He couldn't even feel it on his skin. Instead of trying, Riddick focused all his hopes on the cage not fitting into the chamber. Lady luck smiled at him, for once.

The guards and Johns got into a spat over how to get him into the lockdown cryo chamber, leaving him to fight off shivering as the wind bit into his uncovered arms. Tiny chills raced over his skin as he struggled to not allow his muscles to take on the task of attempting to heat him.

Johns was speaking, "I don't want to take the chance that this ass-fuck has some wild plan up his sleeve."

"Well, fuck you,_Marshall_. It's not in our job description to handle persons like this." One of guards replied. The others mumbled in agreement. Clearly they didn't want to be outside with this known Merc killer.

"Look, I understand that this goes way beyond what they pay you for. But think a moment; you guys want better jobs? Yeah? Well, you're never gonna get anything better with the attitude I see here. Don't 'Fuck You' to me, you shit-faced coward. I deal with the likes of this kind all the time. For shit pay. And I'm the one that is gonna be sleeping next to the bastard, all to keep you and your families _safe_. All you have to do is be careful. The cage will hold him as long as you don't give him any chances to turn on you. Treat him like a wild dog, right?" Johns finally talked them into carefully whittling down the restraints until Riddick fit into the cryo-chamber.

Lady luck turned her back on Riddick again… the guards didn't give him an opening. Still, Riddick smiled behind the bit-induced grimace. The death box's tight fit meant that he only wore neck, wrist and ankle chains, a single ridged bar in the front, the bit, and the blindfold. He nudged his foot forward just enough to keep the door from locking all the way. A hair farther and it would be noticed… a hair less and he'd be screwed.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Inside, Jack watched with rapt attention. Shazza stood nearby for a time also watching. She and Zeke clearly disliked what was going on. 'You'd think that they'd all settle down now that Riddick is secured in cryo….' A window-hunched Jack looked out at the loading platform where the ship was docked, the Hunter Gratzner, her transport off this world, out of this system. Riddick had disappeared into the death box waiting for him out there before Shazza had walked away. Jack was still watching a few unlucky members of port security maneuvering the "no early release" cryo-chamber into the ship. Johns had somehow convinced them to load Riddick into it before hooking the chamber up. 'God, that must fuckin' suck,' Jack thought as she shook her head. From what she could see the chamber had been a tight fit and most of the cage had been cautiously removed until only a little was left. It had been a slow process done outside in the cold thin air. For safety's sake, Shazza had said. But even Shazza looked a little miffed at how everything was being handled. Now that Riddick was loaded into the chamber, the guards were trying to get the entire heavy thing into the ship it up without breaking it. Only then could the techs hook it up. No body wanted to risk taking Riddick out again.

Jack turned away from the window as Zeke walked by mumbling about how this was delaying their flight. She turned to see others gathering. Shazza looked relaxed enough. Zeke paced. She figured those hanging around were her fellow passengers. Most were not much to look at. Some pilgrims, some businessmen, a family or two. The normal stuff. Jack went back to looking out the window. Johns was supervising everything. Not that he looked overly capable of the job at the moment. Jack had seen him blanch once, several hours ago, she figured that if he needed a spike it was long overdue. He looked like he was hanging on by his fingernails over a thousand- foot drop. He looked bad.

Another boy walked up to her, "What you watching?" Jack tore herself away to look at him. One of the pilgrims, he was about her age. Arabic, with a light accent. He wore the garb traditional to his religion in tones of browns, tans, and whites. He was curiously looking out the window now too, but had no idea what he was looking at. "My name is Ali. What is yours?"

"Jack," she answered. After considering him a moment, Jack continued, "They're loading someone, that's all, Ali. It's takin' them a long time." The other boy seemed content with the answer. They watched as the guards finally got the chamber through the doors and the techs moved inside. Johns followed them with his shotgun in hand. Ali's two brothers, Hassan and Suleiman, had wandered up and were watching over their shoulders. Neither of them understood who was being loaded either. Jack looked up at the older boys as the security guards began gratefully moving back inside. "Hi, fellas." The three pilgrims seemed friendly enough.

Zeke's voice broke through the murmur of the crowd, "So when do we get to board? We are already behind our launch."

"When the techs say that everything is hooked up and he's doped out…" The security head scowled at the man confronting him, "Not a moment sooner." Jack went back to watching out the window. She lost track of time, but finally Johns came out of the ship followed by the group of techs. He turned and shook their hands. Then he came back inside and headed straight to the washroom. Only after he had returned and spoke quietly with the head of security was everything cleared for boarding.


	4. From Here to There

**A/N:** More Depth, more character, more… everything, LOL. I still don't own it though. :-(

_A Passage 4:_

**From Here to There**

It was a good thing he wasn't claustrophobic. The large bronze-skinned man had found himself in this particular situation more times that he could count. It seemed the standard way to 'sanitize' the threat he posed consisted of shoving him in a box and chaining it closed or chaining him up and shoving him in a box. It was a good thing he was slightly immune to the drugs that would be soon pumping through his system. Squeezed in tight, held stiff… Cryo lockers were almost like coffins. But he was used to having death as a companion and sometimes he wished he could slip over to the other side and not come back. Not today, though. He had motivation to live, today.

He felt the secure death box weave and wobble as the guards struggled to move its weight into the ship. Richard B. Riddick focused on his senses. Pain was ever present, his over-strained shoulders experiencing a burn from both the previous cage and his rather lengthy stay outside in sub-freezing temperatures while dressed in little more than a wife-beater and cargo pants. The ache faded as it spread down his back. One thing that the cryo drugs were good for was easing pain. For once he looked forward to that side effect. Once the pain was gone he'd be able to work on the details of his escape.

Then there was the annoyance of being inside the box itself. His nose tickled. For one insane moment he wished he could rub it. Or that he'd sneeze and get it over with already. But the tickle wasn't that persistent, settling in more as an irritant because he couldn't move his arms to do anything about it than something that would be solved by a sneeze. And he needed a shave, badly. His head and chin itched with an annoying faint tenacity that would only be solved by the removal of hair with a very sharp blade. Not that his personal blue-eyed devil gave a shit.

The ex-ranger forced his senses away from his personal space a bit, slowing tuning out what he couldn't do anything about. One by one the tickles and itches, aches and pains, twinges and ticks faded out of his focus. They were still there, and likely they would be for a very long time, but all they served to do was distract him from his goals. That aside, his sense of touch told him he was surrounded by metal, bound at the neck, wrists, and ankles and wrapped from side to side in a support that lacked padding. It hit his lower back in just the wrong spot to be comfortable.

His sense of smell was his main tool for gathering information about his surroundings in these situations as the thick leather blindfold blocked his eyesight and the Cryolocker muted his hearing. The first thing he noticed was that the cleaning chemicals used on the chamber had been so weak that the smells of old prisoners was still present; musty faint scents of other dangerous men wafted stale in the already recycling air. If his persuasion had been such he might have found a thrill in that, but as it was, he didn't swing that way no matter what he'd been forced to do to survive when younger. Those memories were something he didn't need to dwell on. The odors he'd get used to, to the point that he'd filter them out. It was a minor discomfort in comparison to his aching arms.

If he tried he could still remember the scents of the spaceport… including that singular one that tantalized him with its mystery. He knew it from some place. But where? He pushed the question aside and gently shifted inside the box somewhat hoping he could tip in over as it moved. The cart they were using was an old fashioned wheeled one and one of the wheels was slightly flatter than the other. Still, he had no luck. At least the metal connectors inside the locker were old and somewhat worn already. That gave him something. He just had to wait.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Johns watched the laboring, grumbling grunts through his own struggle… slightly ill from his need for another fix, feeling the effects of no sleep and little food. Between his rolling stomach and his heavy head he felt like shit. Additionally, the redhead was tense. And in spite the bitter cold wind, sweat was trickling down his back between his shoulder blades and making his scar itch something terrible. The ex-marine shifted from one foot to the other, as he watched the other guards struggle with the death box.

This was taking way to fucking long. And the longer Riddick was awake inside that confined space the closer the big man came to getting free. Didn't these asses understand that? He forced back his somewhat panic tinged anger and plastered on a grim smile as the hacks began to gather around waiting. Gods, it was cold out here… "Why don't you just pick the damn thing up, seeing as there's four of us out here."

"Sorry Marshal, I know this is being difficult. The damn equipment is shit. But I think we almost got it," came the reply as the wheels on the cart finally worked themselves and their cargo over the last bump and the pair in front of the Con caught the box before it could fall.

"Fine," Johns was truly grateful to step inside the old rusting ship and out of the icy wind behind the grunts. A mass of white jump-suited workers hurried in behind him, all acting as though they were on a time constraint that no one else felt. Finally, things would start moving around here.

"Place it about one and a half meters from the wall," the tech directed the heavy addition into place. "Please move out of the way so we can get everything hooked up." The port security workers slid the box off the wheeled cart at hustled out of the ship while the tech crew set to work.

"Fuckin' go on. I'll watch the hacks. It's not like any of you actually know how to fire a gun anyhow." The ex-marine growled at them as the left. Once the box was in place the rest of the work really didn't take long. Johns was rather pleased with how fast everything was hooked in. One of the techs checked the connections and flipped the switch on the box for the drugs to begin pumping. He gave the merc an 'all-go' signal. "Wonderful. I really appreciate it fellas." Finally they could go back inside, and he could take care of his little problem.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Inside the secure chamber, acting as though he was passed out, Riddick heard them leave in a disjointed jumble of feet… heavy boots on a metallic floor. The drugs were coursing through his blood, making time slow and stretch for normal perceptions. His mind rejected those civilized counters as a matter of course and continued to function unimpaired.

He mentally filtered out the musky odor as the stale air became refreshed through the ship's air filters. Aside from the slight hint of dust, the ship had a slightly rusty smell. The powerful engines thrummed through the metal hull, vibrating in their eagerness to be in space. He thought about the different specs for the type of ship this might be. Well, considering where they were, this was no Kovan ship. No. This was an older ship, no bother with carpet or padding… no need to make it look nice.

It might be cargo ship he guessed… Or a long-term sleeper like was popular before he was born. Or a conversion combo of some sort. Most likely, seeing as prospectors were waiting to board, this was a ghost lane regardless. Interesting choice. Surely not the only one Johns could have made. He knew that he could have rustled up a personal 5-seater on Outer Conga that would have made it to Sigma 3 at the very least. But he did have contacts that the Marshal didn't. And, he wasn't quite sure what planet they were on. It certainly wasn't Conga Prime, as that place was humid and warm, tropical to a fault and this place was anything but tropical.

Of course, Conga was bit of a backwater system with little reason for folks to come there. Even Conga Prime was just a stop on the way to better places. Most of the folks that actually lived there wanted to leave but couldn't for one reason or another. As planets went, Outer Conga was the nicer one, cool but not cold, thinner atmosphere than the Prime had made for a better environment all around, even if it was darker there. Not that the folks living there actually cared. Outer Conga could have been paradise but for the way those living there treated it.

But he strongly suspected that this was the Scorpio System. The group home had been here, but not on this planet. He guessed that this might be Scorpio One, as he had heard that the planet had good skiing and quite alpine-like conditions. He'd never been there though, so all he had to go on was heresy. He'd have to look up and see how close to the Conga system Scorpio One was someday.

The con had hoped to make his run all the way back to Old Earth, after killing Johastein, of course… He could have blended in on that world, and no one would have bothered to look for him. Few lived on Old Earth anymore, aside from a few native-culture throwbacks inhabiting the reclaimed wilds and the anti-religious nuts. He figured he'd fit right in.

Although his thoughts were far way, the fact that he was alone drew them back to his current situation. As soon as the last clang of boots on metal faded the ex-ranger began to count the seconds before others were allowed on the ship. It was surprising how long it took. Well, maybe not so surprising… Johns likely needed another hand from Lady Morphine and that would set the boarding back by a good few hours, at least.

Finally he heard them… smelled them… the other passengers' footfalls rippled faintly through the metal as they approached the passenger cabin. He kept still, acting like he was out. But he was anything but under. He counted the voices, the footfalls. Cryo shut down everything but the animal side. Hell, he lived there, in the primitive depths of the mind. It was all he had left that he could call his own, the only thing that they couldn't take from him. He'd learned at his first prison… his first trip into deep storage… how to go there. It came in mighty handy. Cryo did keep him from aging on these long trips, but his mind was wide-awake.

This ship had 40, 40-plus people on it, by his count. And the source of that tantalizing odor was close by. They both must be in the cheap boxes, the ones statistically figured to be the most dangerous. Odd that Johns would agree to place him there, in the cheap seat. Maybe he didn't have a choice though. It was possible that the crew insisted he be far away from the other passengers.

Arabic chatter and the sounds of pilgrim's beads clattering together told him that likely he was being transported the direction of New Mecca. Pilgrims rarely went farther afield from civilization than Scorpio anyhow, unless they wanted to visit the original Mecca on Old Earth. That would have been another route though, not the one he took. Pilgrims didn't risk the pirates and company paid pitfalls that existed in the wilds beyond Conga if they could help it. And Johns wouldn't be taking him through there either. So they had to be heading back into civilized space. New Mecca, Helion Prime…

He went over the list of prisons left in that sector, not that there were many with the 'not in my system' syndrome that ran unchecked through civilized space. Kova? No… Johns didn't deal with them. Hubble? Unlikely. He practically walked out of there last time. Wait -- Tangiers. Johns was taking him to Tangiers. That was bad. They had rights to execute at that prison, and they had dealt with him before, so likely Johns was tired of the chase, afraid the scam was going to be noticed, or both. He was likely going to fry… No wonder the pain was telling him 'last chance.' So what route were they taking? What clues did he have? How much time was left on his clock?

The scent of a woman drifted to him. Rich and earthy, that scent, tinged with oiled metal, sweat, and leather…. He'd smelled the scent faintly back inside the port, clinging to the seats that the guards wandered through. His first impression was that she was a prospector. Now though, there was something else in that scent that he couldn't quite place. Part of him wondered what she'd be like if he could catch her alone. It hadn't been that long ago, really. Considering his run from Butcher Bay had given him time to make a few stops after he'd slipped Johns. It was probably one of the reasons he'd gotten caught. The stop was too predictable. It had been stupid from that standpoint. But he thought it was kind of necessary, considering the intel he'd picked up.

His thoughts pulled away from the gutter as he realized that the woman was not alone. A man with a similar set of odors was near too. A couple. Perhaps not just prospectors… His scent held the strong tang of gunfire. Ah, that was what clung to the woman, so faint that he'd missed it at first. Bushwhackers, then… non-guild killers… interesting. He wondered who they were for a moment, if he'd heard of them. The few bushwhackers he ran into had been the all right sort. The live and let live kind as long as he hadn't crossed them. He knew that Johns likely didn't even realize they were here. They didn't smell familiar to him, but they did give him clues.

Aside from not knowing the couple, their presence on the ship told Riddick quite a bit. Enough to tell that Johns had fucked up. Not only had he chosen an old ship, a slow, sleeper ship at that… but the bushwhackers on board meant that this was a ghost run. Riddick liked ghost runs… They were usually over half a year or more in length with few stops if any, all spent in cryo. He'd gotten out of deep storage at Butcher Bay in less time. Most mercs would limit cryo to one-month jumps just to make sure the "cargo" was still under. Johns didn't have that option here. Coupled with the equipment holding him being old and having wear flaws he could use to get loose… well, things were looking much brighter. All he had to do was wait until they were in space.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The blast of air from opening the door took her breath away. Oh, gods… it was cold outside. Jack huddled behind Zeke, as he provided a natural windbreak of sorts. Shazza prodded him forward into the ship, noting that the child had no coat at all. Zeke tore himself away from watching the porters load the cargo crate with their gear and hustled Jack inside the ship. Jack's first assessment of it was that it was a bucket of bolts and not really space-worthy.

Then she compared it to the expensive ticket she'd bought to get to Scorpio One. At least there were no stains on the threadbare carpet. That might be because there was no carpet… And the crew looked more rested and alert than the last boat too. Maybe this trip wouldn't be so bad. Shazza and Zeke had lockers up a ways from her death box. Jack glanced at her ticket and found the number of the box. Businessmen and pilgrims across the way from her were settling their carryon bags into place. Jack made a face and tucked her backpack into the tiny area set aside for it. One of the 4 crewies walked up to her. "Hi. Want help strapping in?" She was rather pretty in a way, with her carefully arranged blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes and a slightly troubled smile.

"Yeah. It's my first time and I have no clue…" Jack began taking in the navy suit the woman wore. The satin strip on her breast pocket and the name 'Fry, Carolyn: Pilot, Docking Class' embroidered on it in crisp white thread. One little string looked like it was trying to unravel from one of the dots. The woman's little cap looked like it was not used much, being a darker blue, nearly black, and still possessing that 'out-of-the-package' starchiness of something unworn. In contrast, her uniform was faded slightly; looking like it was more of a soft brushed-twill than a starched lightweight wool.

If Carolyn Fry noticed the child's careful scrutiny she didn't show it, "Well, we all start somewhere. Don't be nervous. It's just like taking a long nap." The docking pilot patted the inside of the box, "Hop in."

Jack climbed into the confined space while the crewie busied herself with the connections that would feed the drugs into her blood and filter her waste out, "So what is it really like?"

The woman mumbled, "A murky sludge of frozen time --" before realizing that she was saying it out loud. She covered with a smile. "No, not really. I'm kidding with you. You won't dream. In fact, you'll go to sleep here and wake up there. It's like there's no time passing at all." But Jack could tell she wasn't joking. The woman hated cryo. Still the sting of the needle was minimized by how gentle Fry was as she finished hooking Jack in. The crewie smiled one last time, "Night, night, Kiddo. I'll see you on Tangiers." The door closed. Jack fought off the feeling of being locked into a coffin. She rolled her eyes… 'Of course, it's a death box stupid. What did you expect it to feel like?'

Jack would find out for herself soon enough, but as it was she had never been in cryo before. Neither the first freighter she'd stowawayed on nor the second that had been paid for put her under. The first one had been long enough, but luckily they had fresh supplies that needed oxygen and warmth, or she'd surely have died. The second was a short connecting trip, very expensive, but not long enough for cryo. But the trip to Tangiers was a long one, forty-four weeks altogether. Forty-four weeks of no dreams. Forty-four weeks of being suspended at death's door, unable to cross either way. It was something Audrey welcomed, but something Jack dreaded. She felt so sleepy… The world faded to black.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Johns watched as everyone got into their chambers from his vantagepoint near his bounty. If not for the crewie there he'd have bit the head off the boy hovering near the other death box instead of being with his family. The blonde had looked at the kid's ticket and offered to help hook him up, which mellowed that reaction some. Who in god's name let their child travel alone? That was just – he guessed that perhaps there was a good reason for it, maybe the family was too poor for a second ticket. Really it was none of his business, but he'd been assured that the 'death box' tickets rarely sold and that they would empty. Clearly that wasn't going to be the case this trip.

The Marshal turned to check on the statistics being displayed by the secure chamber. Riddick was still under. Sometimes the convict seemed to shake the drugs. It looked like he was out. The readings indicated he was asleep. Johns took a deep breath and ran a hand through his curly hair. His blue eyes scanned over the proceedings again as the last of the businessmen was assisted into his slot as he complained about his breathing difficulties and asked for a higher oxygen mix in his chamber. The third crewie assured him that the adjustment would be made once he was inside and got the older man settled in.

Only when the captain insisted he strap down did Johns get into his own cryo-box. After assuring the man that he did indeed know how to hook everything up, the ex-marine hacked with the default settings to trigger himself into wakefulness when the crew was brought around. Damn if he was gonna risk being under with people awake around Riddick. That would be far too dangerous. Riddick could charm the skin off of a rabid bear…who knew what he could do if mistakenly let out by some smuck trying to be nice.

Well, Johns knew, or he thought he knew. Riddick would hijack the ship, kill everyone, and make a run for it…that's what he'd do. Johns fought off the urge to pass out as long as he could, staring the entire time at Riddick's statue-like form. In the end though he went under like the rest of the passengers, his soul caught between life and death until the computer triggered him awake...

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

But something inside Jack _was_ still awake. Unaware of time passing, Audrey was slipping and something else was taking over. Audrey didn't dream but the other entity inside her, Jack, did. Audrey let go…gladly slipping away from life and into the netherworld of lost souls. Jack blossomed; creating a hard shell around the tiny fragment of Audrey that remained. The soul inside her sleeping, suspended, body connected with something deep, primitive, and inhuman. A place for Jack to root and grow. And grow this new entity did, for part of the being inside the cryo-tube couldn't shut down. Like a wild animal in a cage, it grasped at the tiny kernel of the puerile of a personality as it fought to stay aware and awake. The animal darkness that had hidden inside a scared, scarred girl suddenly had something strong to grasp, something to lead it into the light, and most important of all, safety to follow it…

Jack was not sure if the experience was one of dreams or had visions as the male, or more accurately the foreign, personality cycled through the endless days of darkness that existed filled with the smells of rusting metal and oil. For a time there was nothing more than normal nightmares that fled only to leave behind the horrible feeling of being trapped. At some point though different images began to filter into the experience. Smells of nature, complex and as foreign as the personality surging through the captured body were the first sign that something was off. Rich mud, soft rain, crushed leaves, acid and pungent, blended into a whole that was unlike anything Audrey's memories could identify. It haunted Jack.

It haunted with the grayness that it first accompanied the smells, and as time passed uncounted, it haunted with the flickers of soft orange light that reminded Jack of something sweet, something buried deep and untouched…

Then, without warning, the darkness inside the girl who would be a boy was near Riddick. Johns was there. Flashes of memories from Audrey drew parallels with a newscast. Bloody, violent, injured people. Shot with a gun. Shots ringing, echoing, through the empty building echoed to ears that were not, nor had ever really been there. But the cries, the squeals, the death screams were not right. It took Jack a moment to realize the true horror of what was happening. Children. Dead. Bodies lying twisted in pools of blood on a factory floor. Small bodies. Riddick was hiding behind a piece of old machinery. Johns held a gun to child's head. These were scenes not from the newscast. Jack had no doubt that it was real. But from where? Before events could be fully analyzed or accepted, Riddick was giving himself up for the life of the boy Johns was threatening.

Something jolted Jack back into nothingness.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The ship shuttered.

Riddick tore himself from the puzzle of the scent he'd been working on. A female scent. A young one. Not fully mature, yet. Sigma 3 was where he knew it from. Sigma 3, where all his bad luck started. This was not an exact match, but he recognized it was someone he knew from long ago. And time could explain the changes in the melody that made up this aroma. It aroused feelings that belonged to another lifetime. He pushed them away. The only realistic possibility of her being here was if he was here…and if he was here then Riddick figured that something was very wrong with his previous assessment of the route.

Riddick raised his head as the ship shook again. It was his time to act. 22 weeks had allowed him to wear the metal down to the point that he could pop his wrist restraints loose from the bar holding him rigid. 22 weeks had been enough time to work the neck restraints until the old metal separated enough for him to slip the chains with a twist. Now he just had to bide his time. The door would pop open once he threw his weight at it. Red alarm lights started going off. Riddick smiled behind the bit.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

In the main control cabin the crew were summoned back from near-death by the computer's crisis program. The same signals triggered Johns' awake, too. The moments that it took the crew to gather their wits about them were the same ones that Johns used to assess the situation and pull his release handle. He staggered with the change of pressure as the door opened. Riddick was statue-like. But his position was like that of a coiled viper. Johns stared at him. The bastard was awake. Locked tight, but awake.

The ship shivered like the metal was made of gelatin. Johns grabbed the handrail to keep his feet. He was unaware of the debate going on in the cockpit. Blissfully unaware that the next 90 seconds or so might be his last moments. The ship leveled out some. Johns ventured toward the other wall. A jolt sent him sprawling, grasping for anything solid. His hand caught another handrail. He looped his arm around it. There was another pause nearly long enough for him to fancy letting go of his support, then the wall and the connecting cryo-chambers ripped away just inches from where he stood. Two of the closest chambers were flung past him into the remainder of the ship, while the eighteen others bounced off into a sandy swirling hell.

Dimly the ex-marine noted that Riddick's chamber was one of the ones that remained inside the ship as his panic led him to clutch the bar with both arms. The unbelievable fury of the situation lashed at him, threatening to carry him away with the rest of that side of the ship. Hellish heat blasted over him and he was showered with sandy grit. Johns watched as the back and interior sides of the passenger cabin began to come loose as well. The sight of half the remaining lockers and the back wall of the cabin tearing free burned itself into his brain even as he forced his eyes closed against the harsh superheated grit buffeting him. Three-fourths of the passengers in the 40-chamber compartment vanished into an alien hell of sand and chaos right before his eyes before the ship came to a sudden lurching stop.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

At the same moment the ship connected with soil, Riddick made his move. He threw his weight into the door, forcing it open, calculated by the temperature and noise what was missing, rolled to the intact wall, and jumped. He was only slightly hampered by the rigid cuffs. He could hear his locker scrape the floor as it came to a stop upright against a support bracketed post. The ship lurched and twisted. He let the movement carry him to near a perfect hiding spot. His movement allowed the stiff restraining bar to clatter away from his body as he pulled himself up and out of the way before Johns had any awareness that anything had changed. Johns was too busy fighting against the forces that hungered to rip him to pieces at that moment anyhow.

Suddenly, the ship came to a stop.

In the silence that roared in his ears afterwards, Riddick heard one of the death boxes fall over with a ringing thud. It might have been his box, even. He wondered if the other death-box passenger had survived or if she had gone the way of the attaching wall. The ex-ranger slowed his breathing down to as shallow as he could make it, aiming to bide his time for as long as he could.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was the persona of Jack who woke with a feeling of weightlessness. Suddenly she was tossed forward and then onto her side in the death-box, nearly being knocked out again in the process. Take that back…the entire box was on its side. The door was jammed, and the box was facing the wall. The internal animal welled up for a moment, panicked and trapped, before Jack was able to force it down. 'Just try to just lay still and hope someone else lived through the hell that had just happened,' came the internal order. Ears ringing, lungs struggling to catch a breath, all Jack could do was wonder, 'What happened? Had the ship crashed? That had to be it. The only explanation for why the death box was tossed over and against the floor. So had anyone else lived? Please. Please let some one else be alive out there.' Part of the problem was that the body was not obeying the mind and was tugging franticly at the red bar just above her head. The release handle was doing absolutely no good. 'Door to the wall… remember. Okay, don't panic…' Jack forced the tears back. It seemed like forever…

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Shazza had woken up as the ship was shaking. She had always been a light sleeper. Something was wrong. That fact registered just as her blurry eyes were flooded with bright alien light. She could feel the heat through the cryo chamber's door. Crashing… she swallowed and put her hand on the glass. Would her locker go the route of those on the other side of the ship? Where there was nothing left? She was jarred to the side as the ship stopped. Shaking now, she pulled the release handle and slowly pushed the door open. 'Bloody fucking hell…' scattered bits of the ship littered the cabin. She jumped as the door next to her hissed open. Zeke was much steadier. Saying nothing, he hugged her for a brief moment and began assessing the situation. Shazza took her clues from her mate. They had to see if anyone else was alive. She spotted Johns' blue uniform near the huge torn off, missing, wall. He was covered with alien yellow dust. "You in one piece?"

He must have blacked out for a bit. After coughing and getting his ears to stop ringing, Johns realized that it was him that the woman was calling to. "Yeah… yeah. I think so." He was still dazed, not quite believing that he'd lived. Blood dribbled from several small abrasions caused by his closeness to the damage. He thought he might have blood trickling from one ear too. Dust caked to it. Johns felt his lungs struggling in the oven hot alien air to catch a full breath. He stared numbly at the other passengers who were trying to locate survivors.

Shazza turned her attention to the damaged but still in the ship cryo boxes. The empty one was shattered. The death box was tumbled over… She panicked. Jack had been in that box. There was no way to tell if the door was busted or if the passenger inside was still alive. She began to dig for the emergency tool kit hidden under the floor. Much of it was missing, and she wasn't even sure that the torch would light. She shook as she fought with it for a moment. It sprang to life with a reluctant sputter. Shazza put on welder's goggles and adjusted it until it could cut metal. She set to work on the back of the death box… She felt Zeke near, and surprisingly enough the merc had moved over too.

Jack felt heat faintly bleeding through the top of the box. The heat was intense at the shoulder, fading as it dropped down the length of the box. An itch formed along side the faint heat, intensified by sweat and tight elastic fabric. Confusion welled up for a second drawing the 'boy's' attention from 'his' rescue… Just as suddenly, the notion was forgotten. How long had this been what was wanted? Wished for? Prayed for? 'I'm a he. Jack B. Badd… A boy. He. Never been anything but. These people don't need to know any different.' But in some ways it was already too late. The inkling was there that something was being hidden not only from those outside, but from the persona inside…

Heat at the hip level jolted Jack back from where ever 'he'd' fled to, 'Someone cutting the hinges?' The back of the box fell to the floor. Jack discovered the concerned face of someone 'he' knew staring down. It took a moment for the befuddled mind inside Jack to come up with a name for the black haired woman… Shazza. Shazza had made it. Noise alerted the 'boy' to others. Zeke was nearby watching not his lifemate, but the flow of too few survivors straggle past. Johns was among the flow. Jack's ears picked up the elder Imam calling to see if there were more survivors. Relief, oddly, flooded over Jack a moment later the reality set in; "Something went real wrong, huh?" The air was filled with yellow dust, oppressive heat filled the gloom, but something in Jack's voice made Shazza smile as the child rolled and got up. A fast sweep with amber eyes told Jack that Riddick was free. Not only was his 'no early release' chamber in the wrong spot, but also it was busted open. 'Had the crash done it?' Jack wondered, 'or was Riddick that strong?'

Something caught the kid's attention…Johns looked that direction. Riddick. Gone. Johns reached for his gun to find his holster missing. It must have come loose. He begun looking for it. His path took him down a ladder. Not having the best night vision, Johns squinted in the dark. There. He could see the handle of the gun and the faint outline of the shape of the holster. Not thinking about the dangers, headless of the possibilities, the redhead moved towards his weapon. He never saw Riddick waiting to strike. He never had a chance to look up and see the merc-killer spring his trap. Johns felt the metal close around his neck, and the strength of Riddick's legs as the other man nearly jerked his head off. But Johns was not that weak. The struggle for life pumped him full of desperation. He reached for his nightstick and flicked it into a longer weapon. One he thrashed blindly at the man choking him.

Riddick withstood the stinging blows with one thought. He was sure of the scent now. It drove him to stay when he should have run. Just as sure was the fact that Riddick was driven to kill Johns before Johns killed her like he had killed those other two kids. Riddick had given up his life once for her… He was not going to let Johns kill her. His legs tightened with effort, his arms strained to keep his grip on the beam overhead. Johns would get his due now.

The effort required to survive often opened up new untapped strength. Johns knew he had to get his attacker loose from the upper beam. He forced himself into the choke, straining Riddick's arms until the large man lost his grip overhead and came crashing down…

The sounds of a fight reached Jack's ears. Gurgling, metal creaking, then a 'whish' and repeated thudding of something hard on firm flesh. Impulse carried the child over to the noise, following the sounds in somewhat of a daze. There were grunts, more straining metallic noises and a heavy thud accompanied by chains clanging against the bulkhead. By the time Jack reached where the fight was taking place it was over. Johns had a bruise forming on his throat; Riddick was on the floor, prone, shackled, blindfolded, and gagged. One eye faintly glittered at her in the dark through a tiny rip in the blindfold. "Somebody's gonna get hurt one of these days. And it ain't gonna be me," The voice floating to Jack's ears sounded like it was coming from a half–crushed throat. Johns turned to look at the 'boy' almost as if he sensed Jack watching. In reality, he too had noticed Riddick's glance past him. That old soft spot was showing up again… Keeping his face blank until he had his back turned, Jack tightened up his jaw and moved away. Hate welled up at Johns' smug expression.

Riddick sensed the mysterious source of the scent again. Through the slit in the blindfold he saw her. A ring of painfully bright light silhouetted her form, but she was the angel he imagined she'd become. He couldn't believe his luck. He couldn't state that it was good. This was the last place he wanted her to be. This was the last way he'd wanted her to see him. His luck was not rotten either. They had crashed. He had time. There would be plenty of chances to slip Johns and maybe he could save her. He didn't fight as Johns secured him to one of the metal I-beams with his hands behind his back. He didn't make it easy either. Johns was forced into muscling the convict into place, enlisting Zeke's help when he couldn't quite trust himself to do the job alone. Jack watched until a scream pierced the air, causing the youth to move off that direction.

What Jack saw touched something inside and rooted whatever it was with morbid fascination. There was a man, on the floor, with a metal spike sticking through his chest. He was screaming, "Don't touch that handle!" Jack did not hear much else of what went on as a feeling of foreign – emotion—drew, held, captivated—him? No, it? Confusion again surged through the not quite child's body and mind. The unknown part, the savage part, of Jack wanted to study the man's shocked bloodless complexion and ruby frothed lips. It wanted to see the death that it sensed hovering nearby. It wanted… blood – The confusion without, the argument over the medlocker and medicine went on while the creature inside Jack fought with the phony construct that held what was left of the youth's humanity.

Johns literally herded Jack out of the scene, past Riddick's sweaty form and into overly bright sunlight. The movement, the shocking heat and light, chased off the shadowy phantom killer lurking inside Jack's soul. The humanity took control with haste, only to be confronted with new horrors, for what existed outside was no less mind numbing than the screaming man inside. A smoking trail littered with parts of the ship reached back toward the horizon. Two suns hovered at the side of the visage, mocking the scene with too much light, searing the horror of the wreckage into the minds of all the survivors.

Jack stared, blinked, and began to scale the hull of the ship for a better look. Shazza and Zeke joined the 'boy' atop the hull. There was another man too; Paris was his name, one of the businessmen who had lived through the crash. Jack instinctively disliked him. He was whining about not being able to breathe. Jack stared out at the wreckage until sounds of Fry's foot steps echoed as she climbed up to join the others. The youth glanced at her, taking in her short blonde hair and fitted navy uniform. The only crewie who had lived was the blonde woman who had buckled in Audrey all those weeks ago. She was shorter than Shazza, but just as tough looking in her own way. Jack heard Shazza trying to reassure Fry that she had done good and chimed in, "Yeah, thanks for saving our dicks." Fry just looked out at the smoking trench, appearing shocked.

Johns was all business. Something about this place was odd. His compass couldn't get a grip on the direction here. He looked out and scanned the valley that they'd crashed in. The bushwhackers, Shazza and Zeke, were quiet, aside from trying to find out what had caused the crash and trying to get the single crewie out of her state of shock. Things could be worse. At least he could count on Zeke to help keep Riddick in line. The focus the pair had on survival was remarkable. The four pilgrims and the kid were worrisome. Resource hogging, good for nothing, and likely to drag the survivors down. Then there was Paris... another good for nothing piece of shit in Johns' mind. Fry came back down off the hull. "There are pressure suits that we can use for oxygen," she was telling Shazza who was right behind her. "I'll check the water cistern and see what the situation is." The two women went inside. Johns listened to the sounds of them retrieving what they could. Fry reemerged looking ashen. She looked at Johns; "We need to go through the cargo…to see if there's anything to drink…"

"I've got something." Paris replied. "If my cargo survived."

Jack listened. Likely whatever Paris had would only do a few of them any good. Something about the man bound inside the wreck called like a siren's song. The pull made the youth itch to sneak back inside…. Back to Riddick. Analyzing the feeling got Jack nowhere. It seemed connected to the same dark place that the dying man had been. Was he?-- It? -- falling into the trap of insanity? The confusion rose again. 'I'm a boy, damnit. A BOY. Focus on Zeke… yeah, that's better. Zeke and Shazza know what to do, so just focus on Zeke.' So that's just what Jack did for a time, 'he' watched the bushwhacker until the sight of the three boys with Imam praying stole the last ounce of attention away from the dusty skinned man. Then Jack tried helping gather parts that Shazza and Zeke needed to modify the salvaged oxygen containers into working breathing units as Fry, Johns, and Paris talked about taking stock of what liquid they might have to drink.

Watching Zeke as he stripped the parts down with his knife, also kept Jack occupied for a time. But the urge to go back inside never abated. The animal inside, the female animal, needed… The darkness of Jack's soul suddenly pointed out that all of the adults had their attention pointed elsewhere and that everything they needed help with had been done. There was nothing left to assist with. And there was an excuse for going back in… Jack struggled with it, but was slipping. That annoyance of something not being right tickled inside 'his' mind again. The savageness reared up over the human persona's panic and snuffed out the emotion with the softest of whispers, 'Just to help him… that's all. Ease his pain…' It sounded reasonable. Why not slip inside and see what injuries Riddick might have suffered?

Johns, Fry, Paris and Imam began heading off toward the mangled back of the ship, following the scar of blackened twisted metal to what remained of the cargo hold. Jack slipped back into the shadows, back into the ship. If Shazza or Zeke noticed neither said anything. Still, caution caused the youth to pause and wait just to make sure 'he' would not be missed. It also let those honey-toned eyes adjust to the dimness inside the ship. The dust had settled on everything. After a moment, Jack slowly began to move over to where Riddick was bound. The 'boy' walked softly, the extra layer muffling the footsteps.

Riddick heard the approach. The scent was coming closer. He turned his head to find the slim form moving towards him. There was no fear in the figure's body language. Riddick found that curious. He watched the child hunch down. Something on her face he'd not seen in a long time, compassion, caused him to focus on her movements. He turned away from the child's eyes and took in the larger picture. Riddick knew this was a girl. He could smell it. Whatever reason she had for her disguise he figured had to be a good one. She was moving closer.

Jack could see the glint of his eye as Riddick turned his head to follow the movement. Riddick's mouth had sores from the bit. Jack's face betrayed youthful emotion. It was not fair. The creature inside Jack stood up, moved closer and whispered, "I've got some water, the others don't know about it. " With that it produced the water filled balloon. Sure the taste would be rubbery but some water had to be better than no water. She carefully put the untied edge to Riddick's lips and released enough moisture to wet them. The knowledge of how to feed liquid to the helpless flowed from Audrey who had done it for the twins. Now the wild budding femaleness trapped inside the male persona of Jack relied on that knowledge, that control, so that the water entered Riddick's mouth slowly enough so that he could swallow.

The moisture was heavenly. Riddick didn't know why the kid would give up the small supply of water, but he took it. He let it slide over his lips, held it in his mouth for a moment, noticed that she was aware of his action and giving him time. He dared to look into her eyes again. Something stirred inside him, a twinge that he knew he should not be feeling toward a child. Richard batted the sensation away and focused on her eyes again. Bright, clear, eyes fired into glittering sharpness by hardship met his quicksilver gaze. The killer, Riddick, squared off with the human, Richard… and wondered where the hell the human had come from. Shit… Those weeks in cryo, the need to kill Johns, the desire to protect her… No, Richard was dead. He'd been dead for years. Yet there he was, like a ghost, only stronger. And something else was there, underneath it all. The animal that Riddick thought he'd conquered stirring in the pit of his soul… The killer and the human recoiled from the foreign danger and both took refuge in those beautiful eyes. The eyes of his angel. Even the beast inside could agree. Her eyes could save him… His mind filled in the golden-brown tint he could no longer see.

Slowly he came back from the brink. Moving his attention slowly away from the lifeline her eyes had become he allowed himself to look at the rest of her. He couldn't see her hair, hidden as it was under her cap, but he imagined it was brown, too. Way back when it had been spun gold, but if it had darkened as she aged it would now be the same color as her mother's hair. No… best not to think of those times. Best not to look at the child's face for the things he loved about her mother… Best not to… that was another lifetime. One he'd given up. Having her here brought it all back, haunting him with a twinge of humanity he thought he'd squeezed out long ago. His anger coiled inside his gut. Johns would have to die. But first he had to get free. He looked past the child; silently focusing on the one tool he needed to make his escape. It was just too far away. But if he could get her to move it even a few feet closer….

Once the water was gone Jack backed up and looked over the large man's form. 'Are there injuries? Hard to tell in this light, really. Um, he's not looking at me… wonder what has his attention,' Jack turned. There was a cutting torch on the floor, near the death box Shazza had cut the back off of. The youth looked back at Riddick then moved over and picked up the torch. The darkness inside Jack toyed with the idea of cutting Riddick free. It pulled back toward the bound man in slow steps. The human persona, Jack suddenly realized how truthfully stupid this was. 'What? What are you thinking?! If you do set Riddick free what is he gonna do? Pat you on the head? Yeah right.' Riddick would likely strangle the life out of this dumb body that wouldn't allow 'him' the control that 'he', Jack, knew 'he' needed to have right about now… And yet there was something about Riddick that was different. The large man was not like Johns or the man Audrey had fled from. Not safe exactly, but less likely to kill someone for helping out. Or that's what Jack hoped as the two personalities fought to the point that 'he' was sick of it. So how did this thing work?

Ali's voice cut through the gloom, "Jack? Jack are you in there?"

The sound caused Jack to cringe before giving Riddick an apologetic expression. The need to keep Ali from knowing what was happening flared. Jack set the torch down. Riddick held those angel's eyes for a moment then gave a single nod. They both understood. Jack turned back to where Ali was speaking from, "Yeah, I'm here. I was just getting my backpack." With that the girl hiding as a boy moved to the side and picked up the leather pack before exiting. Riddick had gotten exactly what he'd hoped for. The torch was just within reach.

Now that he was alone, Riddick pulled up the training he'd gotten at the Strike Force Academy on Sigma 3's moon. He stood; relaxed his muscles for a moment then double-checked the condition of the I-beam he was chained to. Easy slip. He worked his shoulders in preparation, raised his arms up as high as they would go naturally, then proceeded to lift them up and over his head behind his back and through the crack. Old parlor tricks could come in handy. This one relied on his flexibility, pain tolerance, and double joints. His arms in the front now, he reached for the torch….


	5. Dancing on the Line

**A/N**: Ah, escape and recapture… what fun. A revised version? Even more fun. But what is changed? I suppose you will have to read it to find out. ;-)

I can tell you this, it's 2500+ words longer... And in case you haven't figured it out yet, I still don't own this.

_A Passage 5:_

**Dancing on the line…**

_Ali's voice cut through the gloom, "Jack? Jack are you in there?"_

The girl who would be a boy made her way through the dusty dark of the crashed ship clutching the straps of her leather backpack. Ali clapped his hand on Jack's shoulder as they met on the edge of dark and light. The heat was just as relentless as it had ever been but the robed boy seemed cheerful and quite at home in it. Beyond them, Zeke's voice called, "Did ya find 'em? Ai, going back for your luggage, see? Shazza my squeeze, what did I tell ya?" he called over his shoulder as he gathered up the two young boys.

Drawn outside into the sunlight and busied with helping out the other survivors took much of Jack's attention for the better part of the long twin-sun day. Between Shazza needing smaller fingers to thread tubing into whatever part she was working on and Zeke's watchful eye both Ali and Jack were kept out of trouble and away from Johns. The two bushwhackers might not have known, per say, exactly why they wanted to herd the two children, only that it was important that they do so.

Meanwhile, Imam, Fry, Paris, and Johns were over at the cargo bay debating the finer points of drink. The bad thing was although they had something that a few of the adults could use; Paris' stash didn't help either those on Hajj or the child. Carolyn wondered if any of the recycling units for the cryosleep system survived, and if any of the hoses still retained any moisture with the main cistern leaked dry. Paris moved around her, loading up beaded bags with what he decided he could spare. They could cook the alcohol out of the booze, if they could figure out a way to force the resulting water vapor to re-condense. With the persistent heat only nightfall would provide that. Could they survive that long?

Johns ignored the crewie's brooding and took a handful of the loaded bags, leaving Paris to pack up an extra one for himself. At least they had _something_ to drink that would provide some calories. Empty calories, but they could survive on that for a while if it turned out that they needed to. "Come on, let's lock this up and get back." His senses spiked with alarm. The cold sweat returned to soak his undershirt.

"Whatever you have, I hope it's not catching," Paris sneered from off to his left.

Johns fixed the man with an icy stare; "It's just a touch of Swamp Flu from the Conga System. Doc said it was past the contagious stage when he cleared me to leave. I just haven't shaken it with all this cryosleep."

"Mr. Olgivie," Carolyn started, "Let's not get on each others throats."

"Well, I'll need receipts for all of this. It's my personal stuff."

The docking pilot narrowed her eyes, "Sure. Top of my list, that." She fixed the paste complexioned man with a contemptuous expression, "I need a receipt for saving your crappy ass, too. It wasn't in my job description." She brushed past Johns and Imam and back out into the scorched scar with its smoldering ruins. Behind her Johns just shrugged and turned to follow her. He figured she'd just lost a long-term co-worker and was likely under a great deal of stress. It was surprising that she was holding up as well as she was, in his opinion.

Paris huffed in irritation and pulled himself up out of the cargo container behind the marshal. He was surprised to find the Imam's hands reaching toward him to help him up. "Thank you-"

"It is no bother, Mr. Olgivie." The Imam rested a hand on his shoulder. "God will provide." Together they walked back to the crash ship.

Those returning from the near cargo hold did so in a straggling line. The blonde 'captain' arrived first in a huff. She nodded to Zeke and Shazza before marching inside the crash ship back to Owens' body. The Marshal followed behind her with his hands filled with glittery, clanking bags. He stopped and opened one to lift a bottle out, "Booze?" Shazza asked. He shrugged and moved past her to the shadows formed at the edge of the crash. Settling down the bags, he followed Fry inside the ship. Imam and Paris arrived next, "All you got to drink is booze?" She leveled at Paris.

"You know, the captain said the same thing. What do you have to drink? Huh?" he challenged.

It was quiet for a moment.

"There might be a few packets of water left," Zeke stated. "And a filter, if we have power for it. But seeing as there's far more for the adults then the children, the water packs are for Jack and Ali here." He dared Paris to challenge him on it.

The Imam smiled, "Thank you," He placed a hand on Ali's head and the boy echoed the gratitude in Arabic.

Zeke managed a half smile; "It's nothing. Just water. Life is worth more."

Johns burst back out of the crumpled ship like it was on fire. All eyes followed him as he stormed around the ship finally coming to a halt around the backside of it. Jack looked up at Shazza and Zeke, both of which were watching the blue garbed man with an intensity that was frightening. Johns set off a fast jog suddenly, moving out of their collective line of sight. "Fuck!" he screamed. "God-damned Mother Fucker!" Something hit the ground as if it had been thrown. That something was Riddick's bit. "Like we fucking need _another_ way to die!" He stomped back to the others. "Sir Shiv-a-lot slipped his cuffs. We'll need weapons to defend ourselves."

Somehow Riddick had gotten free. 'He was free,' the thought thrilled the crouching darkness inside Jack even as it terrified the persona. Somehow Riddick had reached the cutting torch. The one Shazza had left carelessly on the floor. 'The one I moved,' Jack thought. Johns was rather pissed off. And that was putting it mildly. After ranting up a second vulgar storm Johns stormed off to get his guns. Zeke looked at Paris, "Better head back to the cargo hold, Mate." He sighed and set off toward it leaving Shazza to watch the 'boys'. The Imam and Paris turned and followed him.

What William couldn't get through to everyone was how dangerous Riddick was. Every damn time the man escaped him people died. Not that it was exclusively the con's fault, mind, but all the same… With the killer on the loose the bushwhackers and company employees were at the top of the list to die. And the holy man wasn't too far behind. Only the youngest children were safe from the manic, as long as they didn't show signs of growing up. He yanked his guncase out of the expensive overhead storage first followed by his Guild link tucked into its padded case and extra shells, one blue box and two red. He stuffed the red boxes into the pouch that rested against the small of his back with haste. No need to even let the others suspect anything. Then he reached deeper for the large bluish black ammo bag that was sealed so only he could open it.

How had the man escaped this time? There must have been some little thing he and Zeke overlooked when they chained the convict up. Some tiny flaw Riddick had taken advantage of. But what? His mind worried over the entire situation as he hauled his gear out to the open area where the survivors were all gathering inside the ship. Only the 'captain' was missing and he knew she was sitting by a body in a compartment just below his feet. "Well?" He barked at Zeke as he entered.

"Most of us have blades, you have the gauge. Shazza and I don't have transport papers for firearms," he answered, showing his nice, sturdy, no-nonsense hunting blade. Then he put down the box of survival gear he had brought, including picks, axes, hunting boomerangs, and water packs he'd earmarked for the children. Imam and the boys had ceremonial daggers. Shazza flashed her knife at the marshal as he passed her. "There was a hunter, games-man onboard. If his cargo survived then there might be more guns. But I don't think taking a hike half across the planet to get them is a good idea."

"No. That would be stupid," Johns claimed a flat surface and lowered his gear to the floor before opening his guncase to assemble his weapons.

Jack was actually more cowed by Johns than Riddick. It seemed that most everyone was taking Riddick's escape in stride. But not Johns. 'Like a trained fighting hound,' Jack knew to stay out of his way, 'like the ones my father bred.' Jack watched Johns load his weapons with a furious intensity.

Paris entered with a crate of odd – things. They were bright and flashy. Highly decorated and likely not actually made for use. The noise of the crate settling on the floor made Johns turn around and look at Paris. His disdain was loud and clear. "What the hell are these?" he asked as he looked at one of the gaudy items. Out of the selected treasures contained in Paris' cargo hold were war picks, shields, and blowguns.

"Maratha crow-bill war-picks from Northern India, Old Earth. Very rare." Olgivie supplied with pride.

That got Zeke to turn around, "An' this?" he queried as he picked up a hollow carved stick.

"Blow-dart hunting stick from Papua New Guinea, also from Old Earth. Very, very rare, since the tribe's extinct." The portly man provided in a lecturing fashion.

The bushwhacker rolled his eyes, " 'Cuz they couldn't hunt shit with these things, be my guess."

Zeke and Paris talked, but the youth ignored their exchange. Jack looked the war picks over and took a boomerang as Paris posed questions to the air, "Well, what's the need, anyway? If he's gone, then he's gone. Why bother us?" Wrong question.

Tension filled the air until Johns spoke. His voice was low, dangerous, and nearly a growl, "Maybe to take what we got." He slammed the ammo clip home on his handgun and slid it into his holster under his back bag. "Maybe to work our nerves." Johns then focused on Paris, drilling his eyes into the man's head, "Or, _maybe_ he'll come back just to skull-fuck us our sleep." Johns made an angered motion with his shotgun. Something in Johns' voice rang true in part, at least. Johns moved off, his pistol in his belt and his shotgun over his shoulder. Paris looked ashen.

Imam herded his boys back outside after Johns outburst, glad for once that they understood limited English. Explaining a 'skull-fuck' really was beyond his ability.

"Sounds like a charmer," Shazza said dryly. Zeke looked over at her and gave her a worried but warm smile. She smiled back and turned to Jack; "Come help us assemble the breathers. We can use all the hands we can get." Jack nodded. There was something nice about being treated like an adult with respect, the way Shazza and Zeke treated 'him'. The three moved outside to the shady area where the parts were laid out, leaving Paris alone with his drink.

Once outside, Jack noticed that the captain was hovering near the hull, in the shade. She had forgone selecting a weapon, as such and was staring out at the landscape like nothing else existed. Only when Imam and his boys revealed that they planned to go looking for water did she stir. Jack listened as Fry asked Imam to wait and help her with the bodies of her crewies. Imam agreed and the two moved inside. Jack watched the other three boys mill around not overly sure what to do. Ali finally moved over to where the breathers were being made and offered to help. Zeke set him up placing one part into another. Jack watched Johns. Johns paced around, watching the horizon, as if trying to will Riddick to show himself. Shazza tore Jack away from Johns as the first breather was completed. "For you," she said as she placed it around Jack's head. Shazza had the child test it. Jack nodded with a smile. Shazza then moved on to Ali and the other boys in turn. Finally, Paris emerged from the wreckage, carrying a box of stuff. No one moved to help him as he clambered up on top of the hull and proceeded to set up a folding chair and umbrella up there. Shazza looked up at him, "Want a breather?" Paris' panting form came back down. Sweat beaded and rolled down his sheltered complexion. Jack watched as Shazza fitted Paris with oxygen.

Finally the twin suns slipped toward the edge of the sky. The heat seemed to lessen somewhat. Jack had removed the cap that covered 'his' head, in hopes of catching a breeze through sweaty hair. The rocky soil did not hold footprints. Jack stomped around a bit to test the observation. Nope, no footprints anywhere. Imam emerged from the crumpled ship and accepted the breather Zeke offered him. "How is the Capt'n?" He asked the holy man.

"She needs time," Imam replied softly. He gathered his small flock to pray for the dead.

Fry shortly stepped out of the shadows and assessed the situation, "Imam, if we are going to look for water we should go soon, before nightfall but while the air is cool." Imam glanced at her and agreed. Shazza handed her the last of the breathers as Zeke approached Johns with one.

Then the pilgrim boys began to shout in Arabic for attention and Paris approached. Speaking over the youths' babble he said, "I think there's something you all should see."

Johns trained his spyglass the direction the young pilgrims were pointing. He did not look through it for long though. It was all too clear what was happening. Soon everyone was standing and staring. Something was causing the sky to change directly opposite of the setting suns… something large and blue-white. Imam pulled his boys off to the side after gathering his wits. Johns calculated that there was 140 degrees between the stars that were setting and the new one rising opposite them. He looked at Zeke. The bushwhacker looked rather worried. Not a good sign for survival. Fry seemed to know it was bad too. Now they had to find water.

"Three suns?" Jack gawked at the sight. No wonder this world was baked dry with a dense yet nearly un-breathable atmosphere. There were three suns. Part of 'him' jerked internally. They had so very little water. It was already hotter than anyplace Jack had ever been before. There was no shade, no plant life, no nothing… How would they survive here? Would they have to resort to barbaric means? Was there a way off this god-forsaken broiled rock? Panic rose again, only to be thrust sharply down by the internal foreignness that was rising to meet it. They'd make it. Or they'd die… it was that simple. Having already beaten the odds once, Jack decided that 'he' might as well enjoy life while it lasted.

"Bloody Hell," Shazza was dumbfounded, and more than a little frightened. The only benefit she could see was that the two setting suns would leave the hotter blue one alone in the sky. Her mind raced. Maybe, just maybe, liquid could be distilled from the ship's systems. If not, they were in deep shit trouble.

"So much for your nightfall," Zeke told Fry. He set his jaw. There were graves to be dug and a psycho to watch out for…the continuing daylight might just be a good thing on that front. Riddick would have little cover. He slung his pick over his shoulder and looked at his life-mate. Her features were stressed, her eyes shocked. He tried to reassure her with a slight smile as he caught her hand.

"So much for my cocktail hour," Paris piped up. Jack rolled his eyes. The opinion seemed lost on Paris even though the others shared it.

Then Imam surprised everyone as he walked up with Suleiman under his arm; "We take this as a good sign. A path – a direction from Allah." He smiled at their disbelief, "Blue Sun, Blue Water," he stated it as if it made perfect sense. The youth beamed broadly at the holy man's announcement.

"Ever wonder why I'm an atheist?" Zeke told him. He shook his head at the holy man in exasperation. It was a random direction. There was no proof that water would be found toward sunrise.

Johns, who was still towards the edge of his established invisible parameter, said to Imam, "I take it as a bad sign. That's Riddick's direction."

Jack started at the news, but it was Fry's voice that questioned Johns, "I thought you found his restraints toward sunset." She crossed her arms as she spoke.

"Which means he went toward sunrise." Johns was thinking things over. Of the men who survived, Paris wouldn't know how to shoot, and Imam was leading the water search. It was not a good idea to split up the party. Not with Riddick out there somewhere waiting. Zeke and Shazza could handle themselves. So either he had to go with Imam in case Riddick popped up or Zeke would have to go. And Zeke looked like he was set to stay at the crash site. Johns finally handed Zeke one of his guns, "One shot if you spot him." Shazza and Zeke looked at Johns with disappointment. He was leaving them to take care of the dirty laundry without thinking to negotiate a contract.

"Bloody – Not you too?" Zeke took the gun, "We deal after, yeah?"

Johns nodded. Now, normally he wouldn't 'deal' at all, but in this case he felt he had to. "They expect him alive, so just shoot to warn, not to kill." The pair gave Johns twin looks that read very much like they would use whatever force was necessary to protect themselves. Johns opened his mouth to push the point home that he needed Riddick alive when he was interrupted.

"And if Mr. Riddick spots us first?" It was Paris' sniveling voice.

It was a good question. Too bad they hadn't asked it before. Johns spared Paris a glance before beginning to move away with Fry following Imam. "There will be no shots." Johns' assurance was cold.

Riddick watched the party separate from the crash site through his goggles. Good, Johns was going with them. He carefully set about shadowing but staying ahead of the six-member group, carefully watching both his path and theirs. When it became clear that the ridge he was on would merge with the rising path the group followed he scooped up a couple of pebbles. He gently tossed one to get the group to stop, then the second to draw Johns' attention the other way. He held his position as Johns said, "Quiet! Quiet!" to the pilgrims motioning for the boys to stop their chanting. He cocked his head like he was listening for something. Riddick's third pitch caused a tiny slide of pebbles on the opposite ridge. Johns moved up the hill to investigate.

As Riddick made his way past the meeting point and down into the bone yard beyond he heard the pilgrims begin their chant again. The Imam's voice carried on the heavy air, "Seven Stones to keep the Devil at bay." Well, that was right, wasn't it? If he wasn't the devil then Johns was. How long would it take for the ex-marine to loose patience with these civilians and start X'ing them out? How long could he draw the blue-eyed devil away from his amber-eyed angel? Time to up the ante. Time to play the dangerous game.

Johns took refuge from the heat in his training. He scoured the area for any signs of Riddick. There were no footprints, no movement of any kind. Then his eyes caught something on the horizon, a dark fuzzy mass that anywhere else he'd take as vegetation. He hunkered down to brace his shivering arms and pulled out his spyglass. It took him a moment to get his hands steady but once he did the adjustment clarified the mass into pale trunks and green tinged branches. His heart soared with hope. He heard a clatter behind him. Instinct brought the shotgun up and aimed before he even realized he was moving it. His eyes recognized Fry before he pulled the trigger. She let out a gasp of surprise. He shrugged and lowered the weapon.

"See anything?"

"No Riddick. Trees. And trees mean water." Johns replied.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Riddick stood in the shadow of a huge rib. His senses buzzed with a connection to something dangerous, deadly, and waiting. The ex-ranger drew up comparisons with Spitfires and other nasty creatures he'd encountered over the years of running. But the bones were old, the death marks, while still sharp, smoothed with untold cycles of natural sandblasting. Another thing that bothered him was the evidence of flooding. Also old, barely visible, but unmistakable signs that this canyon was carved through the soft, rocky landscape by massive flows of water. He had taken the time to study the surroundings as he chipped one of the bones into a makeshift shiv. He curled his fingers around the handle with the blade down and waited.

The sounds of the young pilgrims coming up the hill spurred the muscular man into his pre-chosen hiding spot. The bone fit his form perfectly. Why did he wait here? Did he honestly think that he could off Johns and walk back into the group and tell them the truth and that they would believe it? No one else did. His mind filled with the purple tinted vision of his angel again… He set his jaw and pushed it away. Enough of the shit. His idealistic view of her was going to get him killed, and for all he knew she was a bad as the man who raised her. He had to get a grip.

He heard the survivors reach the top and fall silent as the excitement of finding something gave way to the shock of what it was that had been found. Faint words carried on the whistling wind, "My God – Is this whole planet dead?" It was the woman's voice. Shifts in the wind erased the response if there was one. The faint sounds of the group sliding down the incline and entering into the maze of bones filtered clearly to him. Soon the shock gave way to youthful play. Children always found something that made the situation less dire than adults might view it.

Johns was poking around with his shotgun. The boys were chasing each other in the relative coolness of the shade, until Johns interrupted them with, "Get out, dammit! This ain't no playground." The order sent the boys scrambling back to Imam.

"At ease, Johns! Nobody put you in charge," the crewie's voice carried through the bones.

"Maybe you better come in here…" The merc must have found the bone chips, and that fact made his quarry smile with satisfaction. It was easy to trace the blonde woman's path by sound as she entered into the large skull where the pile of evidence had carefully been left behind. The hunted shifted himself to slip into the darkness… 'It would be so easy, but so pointless… Likely she'd be useful.' Johns had her full attention, both would go down before either knew what had happened, and still he waited. "Look at this. Big Evil is around here somewhere. I can feel it," Johns stood and began searching the skull's shape. Riddick remained exactly where he was, safely wedged and hidden from view.

The only woman in the scout party slipped back out into the sunlight and begin fiddling with something that caught her almost assailant's undivided attention. The breather reminded him of how much punishment his lungs were taking in this hostile environment. He fixed his eyes on it and slipped silently to the ground, shadowing her path until she stopped to switch out the tanks on her belt. But it was not her breather he wanted from her.

The docking pilot waited in mounting irritation as the cop poked about in the bones of the giant creatures that were long dead. She doubted that a killer like Riddick would play cat and mouse games inside a maze when there was survival at stake, but had to admit that she was no expert in that matter. Her life had been a hard one. Her parents had made bad decisions that ended them up in debtor's colony leaving her to live in a group home for a few years before she successfully made the entrance exams for flight school. Her only saving grace was that she'd been born before her parents fell into hard times, at a normal hospital, and was a registered citizen as a result. Some of her younger siblings hadn't been so lucky. Puffing on the breather told her it was time to switch tanks. She hadn't realized she was using so much of the liquid air. Bugger. Fry paused and moved the hose from the spent tank to a fresh one. She did, however, know that they system was as corrupt as they came and just because Riddick had been labeled a killer didn't actually mean he was one. He might have just been very, very unlucky.

Johns finished his search. He'd come up dry. But the feeling that Riddick was near didn't ease up. He pushed it aside. 'Wonder what was up with that Owens fella and his not touchin' the handle thing? Maybe there is something there I can use to keep Fry under my thumb.' He looked around and noticed the woman was leaning up against the ribcage nearby. The ex-marine formulated his battle plans and drifted over to the pilot, a bottle of scotch in his hand, "Care for a taste?"

Carolyn Fry started at the sound of Johns' voice coming back into a standing position so fast she felt dizzy for a second. Something about him was not right. She tried to cover her desire to shrink away from the man in blue by slowly leaning back into the ribcage behind her. He offered the bottle. She stared at it for a moment then took it, "Probably shouldn't do this. Makes it worse. Dehydrates you even more." She took a drink and shook her head as the warm liquor jolted her senses.

"Probably right." Johns had several reasons for his offer, one of which was to loosen the woman's tongue. He drank before pressing the issue. "You know, I woulda played road dog for these guys. You could've stayed behind. Probably should've…because, you know, if we don't find water…."

The bottle passed again. "No. I… wanted to get away." It passed back.

He knew she was no captain, but couldn't, for the life of him, remember what position she actually held in the crew. "I've never seen a captain so eager to leave her ship," Johns was like a hound dog on a blood scent.

Riddick paused, just out of sight, fuming over the interruption. He really didn't want to hear their alcoholic bonding.

Fry stood up, aiming to walk away when the next question caused her to lean back again, "What did Owens mean? 'Bout not touching the handle?" For a moment Johns thought the woman was going to stay tightlipped. He tried to convince her, "Hey, see anyone else around here? Just between you and me. Promise." Still it didn't work. He tossed the bottle aside and leaned in closer "Carolyn, sittin' on our secrets ain't gonna help us now."

'How can you sit for his bullshit, _Captain_?' Riddick thought sarcastically as he crept ever closer to his prize.

It all came tumbling out almost as if there was just too much guilt built up for her to hold in. "I'm _not_ the captain." Nor did Fry want to be, this situation was far beyond what they paid her for, and quite frankly she possessed zilch in the way of training to deal with this kind of pressure. The cop was hovering just far enough away to be polite but still too close for her to be as ease. She fidgeted and took a breath, "During the landing when things were at their worst -- _Owens_ was at his best. He's the one who wouldn't let the docking pilot dump the main cabin. The passengers."

"And the docking pilot being?" Johns asked. His answer was just a look. Riddick, although behind her, could immediately tell that the question was a dumb one. The Merc took off his baseball cap and put it on her head, and Riddick expertly sliced a lock of hair at the same moment, "Guess I'm more glad to be here than I thought." He started off toward the Imam and his flock. After a second to steady her nerves the docking pilot followed him.

Riddick lightly sniffed the sun-kissed blonde hair. Fry was interesting to say the least. She had the makings of a mass murder in her blood. Instinctively, he liked her. Something about her seemed to call out that they had kindred experiences. The 'like' wasn't sexual so much as it might have been though. He closed his eye behind the goggles and took a deep breath of air through the sweaty golden-yellow strands, 'A memento of you, babe. All I wanted, so I could find out more about who you really are.' There were too many aromas to sort through. In spite of her being the only female crewie on the crashed ship, none of the scents were masculine. Would figure that she batted for the other team. He smirked before blowing the hair away.

His eyes fixed on the scotch bottle. There was one good swallow left. It was a trap, but not a very good one. Sand would replace the liquid quite nicely. And knowing Johns, he'd be too lazy to circle back and check. Years of survival level living made the convict's mind sharp. It froze a picture of the bottle in easy access. He picked the scotch up, emptied it with a swallow, and filled it with a handful of sand. Then he crouched down, pulling up the image to help him replace the bottle perfectly…

He slipped like a shadow back out of the merc's line of sight and circled back to the crash.

Jack looked up at the blue sun approaching high noon. Shock still registered over the simple fact that this planet had three suns. The youth looked out as the sounds of Zeke's homemade sled scraped by. It held two bodies and a bundle of tarp. "You comfy up there?" Zeke shouted up at Paris as he moved into the antique dealer's line of sight. Perhaps it was the shock that allowed the demoness, the she-monster… the shadow that dwelled inside to take over. Whatever it was, whatever the reasons, Jack didn't fight it. Instead an evil grin spread over that pixie's face. One that would have scared her 'pops' had the wrenched man witnessed it. The huntress emerged, like a cat stalking a mouse, and begun a slow, silent, climb up the back of the hull.

"Amazing how you can do without the necessities of life as long as you have the little luxuries." Paris' voice floated down as the honey brown-haired teen stealthily moved higher. 'Gonna teach you, you snobbish bastard,' Jack thought. Thrill circled through the developing body. Power. Skill that Jack hadn't guessed was there.

"Just keep your bloody eyes open! Don't want that dog sneakin' up my bloody fuckin' ass!" Zeke scolded. Jack could smell the little snob of a man's cigar now, the smoke wafted out into the hot air, moving down in the dense, oxygen-poor atmosphere. The huntress silently purred. So close… The next move was silent, graceful… like a snake ready to strike. And still Paris had no idea she was there. 'Could slit his throat,' the shadow whispered… 'could do it! If I wanted… Yes I could….'

"Don't worry old boy. You dig the graves, and I'll hold down the fort." Nearly in position, the predator waited for Paris to relax back into his canvas chair. Death wasn't her plan though, no. Death would be too easy. 'Got you.' Jack thought with an evil glint in those rare golden eyes.

Lightening fast, she slipped the boomerang under Paris' jaw, pulling it tight, watching the older man react with alarm. His assailant leaned in so youthful lips were nearly brushing Paris' ear. Ignoring the smells of tobacco and alcohol that rolled off the pasty fellow, the huntress said softly, "He could probably get you right -- _here_," and she pulled up again with the weapon, "right under the jaw, and you'd never even hear him coming." There was a pause for effect; Jack's voice became more intense, " 'Cause that's how _good_ Riddick is."

The art dealer finally recognized who it was, and he relaxed slightly. But the point had been made. Paris decided to stab back as he reached up and pulled the boomerang away, "So, tell me. Did you run away from your parents? Or did they run away from you?" He turned to face what he initially thought was a child playing and found himself facing something altogether different. A killer. An angered killer. His fear surged again, and he froze, paralyzed like a mouse with a hawk zooming in.

Icy anger swelled through the Huntress. Murderous rage. Blood lust. 'It would be so easy to slit this soft, cultured throat,' the darkness whispered, entranced by the intense terror it was detecting in its quarry.

Paris jerked back from the fierce, raw emotion showing in the golden cat-like eyes of the _creature_ in front of him. They were nose to nose. Close enough for the heat from the other body to soak into his and cause him to break out in cold sweat. Close enough to be fully aware of the coiled _power_ inside the guise of a child. His mind supplied that here, in his personal space, was a real, immediate threat. No ordinary boy was this animalistic thing feasting on his soul. Panic and alarm shifted through his slightly drunken haze. What the hell was that—that look…?

Having sated itself on the raw fear of its prey, the darkness retreated. Jack recoiled suddenly all too aware of the pulse of the man staring at her. His tobacco and sherry laced breath puffed against her face. She felt like there was something keeping her from breathing. Pops face floated before her minds' eye and shifted into that of the sweating, soft man. The echoes of her dark thoughts drifted into her mind again before Jack realized how scared she was of them. This wasn't Pops. This man might be a bastard, but he hadn't hurt her. Who was this? 'Paris. Would die easy,' came the answer. 'No. not… I'm not a killer!' The child's face twisted into a scowl.

The internal battle that raged was visible to Paris Olgivie as he didn't dare take his eyes off the child. He watched the catlike animalistic persona flicker in and out before the more human, but just as annoying, personality seemed to take hold. 'What the fuck is this, here?' He wondered. In all his years, nearly three fourths of a century, he'd never seen anything like that before. His heart continued to beat out an elevated tempo and he stared at where Jack had been even after the 'boy' landed gracefully back on the ground.

Shazza was waiting down below as Jack lightly settled her feet on the soil. "Come on. He's not worth it. 'Sides I need your help." The pair moved into the ship as the bushwhacker began to tell her charge how she thought they might be able to repair enough of the electronics to make something useful. Like perhaps a water distiller. After all the ship's systems had some liquid in them, perhaps water would be among those liquids. Shazza picked up a cutting torch and motioned for Jack to help her get the panel exposed. One thing Jack could do was follow direction. After a time Shazza shook her head. "No good. Let's move over to the closer storage hold and see if we can find anything useful there." Jack nodded. The pair moved out of the twisted crash and over to where the storage hold lay upside down.

They had just set about opening one of the containers with the torch when Paris appeared in the doorway, "Tell me that was you."

The accused 'boy' looked at him like he was crazy; maybe the heat was getting to the older man. "Okay." Jack shrugged, "It was me. What did I do now?"

"Assailed my fragile sense of security, that's what." Paris had an inkling that perhaps it hadn't been Jack making the noise he'd heard.

Shazza shut off the torch, "What are you going on about? He's been right here with me!"

The light through one of the cracks in the hull blinked. They all looked at one another. Jack sprang over to another gap in the skin of the ship. The youth could see Zeke and could tell that whatever was moving outside he had spotted. The bushwhacker was moving toward the ship. Then a leg came into view, dressed in familiar dark pants and topped with a white shirt that Jack noted but overlooked. The size of the leg, and the style of the pants, matched what Riddick had been wearing. Jack turned to look at Paris and Shazza. "Riddick!" she mouthed without sound. Shazza jumped over to the door, lifting Paris' war pick from him and clutching it tightly in hand.

Then the man's burned face came into view, "No!" Jack screamed. Shazza came up short with her swing. Paris relaxed again. Just another survivor. He was badly burnt and clung to the release handle of his cryo chamber. His white tee was shredded. But Jack could immediately see that his build and haircut was similar to the escaped convict who was somewhere out in the relentless heat.

"I thought…. My God…. I thought I was the only one who survived…"

Copperish crimson sprayed the air as the sound of Johns' gun reached their ears from the two new ragged holes in the man's scalded buzz-cut head. The man looked surprised for a moment, before death took the spark out of his gray-green eyes. Shazza gasped in astonishment as the deep red goo landed on her. Paris made a gagging sound behind Jack as the only one not in shock stared at Zeke. The dusky skinned man was focused on his life-mate. Her expression told him everything. "It was just somebody else! From the crash! Just another survivor – like us!" Jack felt like pounding on something in anger. She'd forgotten about Zeke.

"Cricky! I thought it was him! I thought it was Riddick!"

oOoOoOoOoOo

He'd seen the entire thing. Ah, the drama wrought by fear. He'd watched that one half-burned survivor claw his way up the crash scar, in shock, and wondered why no one had thought to scout for others. The fellow would not make it; the burns were too extensive. Riddick took advantage of the fact that Paris left his shady perch to finish off what liquor remained as he viewed the scene that played out with Zeke mistaking the white-shirted man for a real threat. That told him the rules of the game. Johns hadn't meant for Zeke to kill, greed would keep that eventuality from happening for as long as Johns thought he controlled the situation. So, knowing Johns as well as he did, the hunted decided that Zeke would be the target of his next desire… The goggled gaze fixed onto the glint of metallic tubing held in the dusky man's lips. Time to get a breather.

Zeke had to catch his wits. That had been so stupid. At least the grave would hold another body. Still, he couldn't afford to be making such careless errors… Shazza took the event as well as could be expected. She knew the crash had impacted her life-mate's mental state. That docked the chance of survival down quite a ways she figured. He might have bumped his head. Or the sun was getting to him. She wiped the blood off and attempted to talk him into resting inside for a while. Zeke insisted that he was fine. The body would fit in the grave, and he'd fill it in. The hard part was done already. Shazza watched as he dragged the body off to the gravesite with more than a touch of worry.

But Zeke had another watcher, too. Riddick had posted himself behind a spire, just uphill from the gravesite. He stayed put as the sled scraped it's way to a stop. The ropes dropped with a thud. He heard the rustle of the tarp. His senses began to tingle. Suddenly he was moving toward the grave, toward the bushwhacker, unsure of his motive. Something was wrong. Zeke shouldn't be in there. 'What the fuck am I doing? The bastard just shot someone thinking it was me, yet…. I've got to get him out of there…' The breather forgotten, Riddick reached the tarp edge with a warning on his lips when the gunshots froze him in position. His instincts screamed for him to bolt. Every fiber of his being called this truly bad news. Something had woken up to the smell of blood. Something hungry…

The shots rang off wild. Jack, Shazza, and Paris snapped to attention. "Zeke?!?" Shazza screamed with alarm. Then she began running toward the sound in a blind panic. Jack glanced at Paris who still looked mighty ill. The youth rolled those amber eyes and set off after Shazza at a slower pace. Something held the teen back, a twinge of some new feeling. Jack brushed it off as the sound of the tarp being torn off the sled and flipped into the air drew her attention back to Shazza. Beyond the wild haired woman was a familiar shape, a black clothed muscular figure, with tanned skin. The youth picked up her pace, breaking into a trot, her eyes shifting from the blood-free form above to the blood splattered pit below and the woman opposite it.

Shazza lifted her head; she had to be crushed with grief, just from her body language. Ferocious green eyes met impassive black goggles. Time began to slow… It seemed that all of them were caught in quicksand or something. That new feeling was stronger; a deep set buzz, a warning of some type. 'Have to keep Shazza from going there. Where? I don't know. Just there. Something's very dangerous…' Then Shazza screamed. The sound seemed to jolt all three of them back into time again. Jack began to run toward the gravesite, as the remaining bushwhacker stood frozen watching Riddick's massive form turn with surprising agility and grace, each movement giving him gathering speed for his sprint away.

Riddick's only thought was to find someplace to gather his sagacity back. He dodged through the spire-crusted landscape knowing that there was no way he could fight this enemy alone. He wasn't even sure he could fight it at all. Zeke hadn't even let off a scream… and whatever was in there… was pure predator. He heard the feet pounding after him. Gaining. Fueled by rage. Between the distraction caused from the buzzing and the harsh time his lungs were having he knew he wasn't in top form. He certainly wasn't paying attention to his surroundings as he'd been trained to do.

Pain shot through his legs just below the knee sending him to the ground with a hard thud. Johns had heard the first two shots. Riddick hadn't even thought of him showing up. The lack of water and oxygen dulled his reaction time and his mind. His senses were filled again with that buzzing. What ever this was, it was right below them, moving as they moved. Waiting for something to happen. And then there was Johns. Riddick grappled by instinct, fumbling due to the intense noise vibrating through his head until the blue-eyed devil removed his eye protection. Sharp sudden bright light pierced into his skull. The overwhelming pain blotted out everything, making it almost impossible to do anything but cover his eyes.

As soon as Riddick was out of view, Shazza sprang into action, leaping like a mad hellcat into a chase that she likely could not win. Jack reached the grave breathless, "No, Shazza!" The teen's voice did not carry. Only one thing to do, Jack set out to follow her. Forgotten was the brutal heat, the lack of water, the oxygen poor air…. 'What will I do if Riddick kills Shazza?' It rolled through Jack's skull as she tried to catch up. Up ahead there was a loud thud. The sounds of grappling, and a few hard blows. Jack slowed. It sounded like Johns grunting. Johns hitting. Something inside her did not want to see what was doing the pounding. Then Shazza joined in the bash feast. The youth rounded the corner, blood pumping in her ears, dimming what was being said.

Fry appeared and pulled Shazza off the prone figure now curled into a fetal position attempting to shield his eyes and body at the same time. " -- Just kill him!" was all Jack could hear as her ears cleared. "Kill him before he—" Shazza lashed out with one last kick connecting with Riddick's temple and knocking him unconscious before letting Fry lead her away.

It had taken two grown men to get Riddick into position while awake, but Johns no longer had Zeke to help him. Jack found Johns assessing him. With a somewhat unhappy air Johns said, "Come on, help me out here, kid. Grab his feet."

There was no way that Jack could refuse. What would she say, 'It's too heavy'? No, better to take the direction and help Johns. Jack moved over and picked up Riddick's legs by his ankles. "What did you do to him?" The question came out before Jack thought about it.

"Me?" Johns was fetching Riddick's goggles from the ground. "I didn't do a damn thing to him. He's blind in the light without these," Johns held up the goggles for Jack to see. "But he is sorely testing my righteous nature. Same ol' shit, kid. Just another planet." Johns hefted up Riddick's limp form by the big man's shoulders. Together the two of them could just lift him off the ground.

They slowly covered the distance back to the ship. Jack didn't say anything to Johns, but even close up it was clear that Riddick was clean of blood. He was dry. It was even clearer after he rolled in the dirt. 'I'll have to talk to Fry. I have to let her know what I saw. I don't think Riddick did it. Don't know what he was doing there, but killing Zeke was not his plan. No way could he have done it…'

Johns was in his own state of thought. The kid was strong for a ten-year old. He had a good, steady strength, too. 'Funny, that. I'm usually a good judge of people, but this kid is full of surprises. Not like the dope is helping me any, I'd wager, but the boy's got promise. He could make the guild someday.' Johns' opinion of Jack stayed fairly high until Jack began to help him secure the unconscious convict. Jack pointed out the lack of blood on Riddick's bone shiv, clothing, and hands. "You don't know the son-of-a-bitch like I do kid. Sir-shiv-a-lot has ways of killing clean." He listened to the boy's protest, mentally noting that he'd make a better lawyer than Merc, "Shut up. I'm telling you Riddick killed Zeke. I don't know what makes you think any different, and I don't care. He's a killer, understand? Now go make yourself useful and stay out of the way."


	6. Playing the Game

**A/N:** This chapter has the start of a plot line that makes people question ages. I suppose I can put my thoughts on that here. Riddick and Jack seem to have a disturbing gap in their ages. Well, yes. They do.

Riddick at the time of CoR could be no older than 33. Most likely he's between 30 or 31. Both Shirah and Aereon state '30 years' so I tend to say that's definitive. The attack on Furya happened just as he was being born as he still had his umbilical cord attached (well, he was strangled with it, yeah? Riddick himself says so). Not to mention that the Lord Marshal was rather infamous for killing babies that way. This gives a total age that ignores time spent in Cryosleep. Every year spent in cryo is a year that one does not age. It's a known fact that Riddick spent time in at least two 'deep storage' slams, Butcher Bay and an unnamed one mentioned in the Pitch Black Novel (these would be triple max prisons where the inmates are kept in cryosleep. In the latter, he spent nearly three years attempting to escape).

Which brings me to the point I'm making. Riddick has spent _a lot_ of time in Cryo. Every time he's escaped and been caught the mercs place him in cryo for their own safety. He's spent over 3 years in cryo while in prison. It's likely he spent time in cryo after he was found alive, both being rescued off Furya and later when he went to Sigma 3. I think it's safe to take off anywhere between 5 and 7 years. (The 29.3 years in prison bit from _Into Pitch Black_ is suspect, in my opinion. It reflects what the company wants to be known, not the truth. It would make Riddick much older if you take into account his 'half my life' line from the movie. I suspect that Riddick was rescued and has a total custody record for his entire life of 29.3 years at the time _Into Pitch Black_ is supposed to be set at, if you fudge it a bit and place it closer to CoR than Pitch Black. Meh.)

Okay, so what about Jack? In _A Passage_ Riddick knew who her father was on Sigma 3. Riddick's first job there was when he was ten or so. It's likely that Jack was born within a year or two of his arrival on Sigma 3 although he didn't rescue her until later. Jack was a toddler at that point in at least appearance, and Riddick was working security. This was when Riddick was something like 14-15 years old. Jack could easily have been 3 or 4 years old. What it boils down to is that Jack looks 10-12 at the time of Pitch Black, but is likely older. She could be as old as 15. Riddick is no older than 26 then, and with the years deducted for his time in cryo he could be as young as 18 (not likely, but possible). Anyway… on with the story. And No, I don't own this. :-(

_A Passage 6:_

**Playing the Game**

"…_I'm telling you Riddick killed Zeke. I don't know what makes you think any different, and I don't care. He's a killer, understand? Now go make yourself useful and stay out of the way."_

The ex-marine and the 'boy' had gone opposite directions, leaving one unconscious Richard B. Riddick chained in the darkened oppressive heat of the crumpled _Hunter-Gratzner_. Johns figured that the situation with the kid was taken care of by the way the boy sped off. He climbed a ladder and spotted a fairly secure location with a semi-flat area. The morphine was fading and he didn't want to risk waiting too long to fix the problem…

Jack, on the other hand, had gone to find Fry the moment she was done helping Johns. The captain was trying to talk down Shazza's hysterical state, and the Imam was doing his best to assist her. The dark haired woman was sobbing like her life had been torn apart. Jack paused. Maybe it had been, considering how much she and Zeke had loved each other. "I'm – Fry… Can I talk to you?"

Carolyn looked over at the child, "Um… Can it wait?"

"Go on, I believe I can assist Shannon here, Captain." Imam offered. Shazza didn't even look up.

A look crossed Fry's face at the 'captain' reference but she nodded to Imam, "Okay, Jack."

Jack glanced at Shazza again and back at Carolyn before walking far enough away to not hear the sobs. A deep breath of the burning air later, the youth squinted a the blonde woman, "Did you notice? Riddick's clothes didn't pick up the dirt like they were bloody. And the shiv he supposedly used to kill Zeke was clean. I don't know what he was doing there, but it wasn't to kill Zeke."

"Are you sure?" Fry asked.

Jack nodded, "Go look for yourself. There's no dirt on his clothes, anymore than the rest of us have anyhow."

The docking pilot wasn't sure why, but the suggestion that she go look at the man herself sparked a bit of defiance in her. Johns had claimed certain things about the larger man. As of the current moment all they had to go on was the cop's word. And there was something off about the readhead. "All right, Jack. I'll go look. You stay here. I don't know where Johns is, but if you've brought this up to him already I'd rather him think I was curious on my own."

"Can I go comfort Shazza?"

Carolyn smiled, "Yeah, that might help her." So much death had occurred already…

The feeling of small arms around her made Shannon Montgomery shift as nothing else had. She hugged the child so selflessly offering wordless comfort and managed to get her sobs under control. Jack simply placed her cheek against Shazza's head and swayed, just like Audrey had done when one of her siblings was hurt.

Inside the crash ship, William J Johns was far too doped up to really notice the noise made by a woman's light footfalls. He drifted in and out, thinking that perhaps it was a shade too hot to be napping under a midnight sun, dazzlingly dark, but blisteringly bitter to breathe. His head slowly slumped back against the metallic hull and he wondered why even the ice was scalding. But he had no energy to move, and the air was to heavy to fight so he slept.

Meanwhile below his feet, one very brave or very stupid docking pilot was studying a well-muscled bronze skinned man. She scanned his pants as his legs were sprawled out in front of him. His arms were taking most of his weight. Johns hadn't even bothered to make sure the man was comfortable or safe in his bonds. She pressed her lips together and moved half a step closer. Her eyes roamed over his wife-beater. The yellowish dust should have left quite a telltale sign if the black clothing had blood on it. But she saw nothing to indicate any moisture at all. It looked to her like Jack was right. So why did Johns insist that Riddick had killed Zeke if there was no evidence of it? One dark clad leg twitched and Carolyn felt a spike of unspeakable fear. She quickly moved back outside.

Imam was waiting for her as she emerged into the light. "It looks like something more is going on here than Johns is willing to admit, Father," she said. Imam raised an eyebrow. "I'm no expert, mind. But looking at the grave and looking at his clothes… something just doesn't add up."

"I know what I saw. He was there with his shiv out, poised like a gargoyle, waitin'. My Zeke's dead. And that – thing – in there is the reason why," Shazza stated pushing away the calming influence of the small hug and marching toward Carolyn and Imam.

Jack followed close on her heels, "But Shazza, what about his clothes? You saw that too. He was in the dirt and his clothes are clean!" The youth protested.

The bushwhacker fixed the boy a glare that was like shattered green glass. "I saw nothin' o' the sort, Jack. How can you defend that – creature?"

Jack recoiled, stung and hurt by the venom in Shazza's eyes, "I guess I don't know nothing." She looked at Fry; "I'm just a kid, after all. I'll go stay out of the way." The pain shifted into simmering anger as she threw herself into being 'useful'. She moved into the upper level of the crash and started shifting through the rubble at the far end of the crumpled bay. Oddly, this led to Jack indirectly following the merc's orders to stay out of the way but had her own reasons for doing so.

Outside, Imam and his two older boys were arguing that even Riddick deserved to make it off this rock. Shazza had other ideas along the lines of filleting Riddick alive, slowly. Not just leave him behind, but torture him to death. Zeke's passing clearly shattered whatever goodness she held inside into a million tiny razor-edged bits. Jack tried to filter out the harsh words but it was seemingly impossible to not hear the bushwhacker's angered tones.

An unknown amount of time later she heard Johns voice. The hype was siding with Imam…. Well, of course he was, Hype or no, he had to get paid somehow…. Fry was attempting to compromise…. Unsuccessfully. She did however manage to get Shazza to wait, to listen to the possibility that Riddick was perhaps not guilty using what Jack had told her. Fry had agreed that the only blood on bronze man's form had been his own. His clothes were clean. Fry had listened when the youth had secretly told her about the gore all over the inside of the grave that was not reflected by Riddick's blood-free clothes and had checked it out for herself. That was something at least.

Jack heard the con stir slightly, his chains rasping against makeshift holders in the walls as he shifted to get his feet under him and ease the ache in his arms. The light, but for one spot, was dim enough that he didn't feel lancing pain from his eyes at least. But his head throbbed and his ribs protested with every little move. Damn, that bushwhacker had a mean kick. But he was sure that her anger wasn't what spiked off his alarms. He could smell his angel's scent in the air, like she'd been inside the boat for a long time, diffuse yet renewing. Above him the Merc's distinctive walk told Riddick that his blue-eyed devil was approaching.

Johns walked past Jack, ignoring the 'boy's' scrounging. Jack looked up at him as he moved down the ladder. Johns was carrying a clean, newly made flaked bone shiv in one hand. 'Not a drop of blood on it,' Jack noted. So there again her impression was re-enforced. Not even a tinge of pink to the ivory curves that made up the cutting edge. Something about the merc's unwillingness to even consider that Riddick might have had another reason for being at the gravesite when Zeke was killed did not jive with him being a man of the law. The sound of Johns' feet hitting the floor echoed back up to Jack pulling her back to the moment. "Didn't you hear them sounds?" Riddick whispered to the ex-marine.

"What sounds, Riddick? The slicing of your bone shiv through Zeke's flesh? No, you piece of shit, I didn't hear nothing," Johns' voice echoed in the dusty hot unlit interior. Disheartening emotions welled up in the animal soul inside the teen. They fed the shadow as they surged through her. It whispered and she obeyed by moving closer to the ladder.

His vision might have been mono-toned, but the man standing in front of the ex-ranger was someone he knew well. He could still fill in the red hair and the blue eyes. A shaft of light stabbed the darkness near his face, forcing him to keep his eyes almost closed. It didn't matter. The scent he'd been so focused on before was near, and moving closer. He'd just stayed still until Johns' footfalls echoed overhead. Yet for all the adversarial elements of the relationship between them, the ex-ranger had held out a tiny hope that the merc would listen to reason, hear him out that something very dangerous that stirred deep within those spire-capped hills…and Johns had let him down. He couldn't resist a jab. Riddick's chains clanked softly, "The whispers, Johns. The ones that made you kill those kids…."

Jack's stomach churned, 'The dreams were real?' The youth was confused by the revelation, yet there was no denying Johns was dangerous. That was a fact known from the moment Audrey first looked into those glassy blue eyes. Hate and anger boiled up joining the animal instinct to hunt and kill, filling her soul, the demoness once more bubbling to the surface, driving away the tinge of fear and erasing the confusion.

Johns' voice came up hard, "Shut up, mother-fucker." There was a swoosh and a moist thud, like Johns' shotgun connecting with already bruised flesh. The teen listening in flinched back. "C'mon, Riddick, come up with a better lie." Jack heard a very soft groan and the sounds of Johns' footfalls getting closer. The animal inside did not want Johns to see her and scurried back away from the ladder. He emerged from the hatch as she bent down out of sight. The ex-marine walked right past her. The youth paused, holding her breath until the footfalls faded into soft crunching on the alien soil, then she moved toward the ladder again. Only there was another interruption…

'This is crazy,' Fry told herself as she listened to Johns state that Riddick made some crack-ass claim of hearing something. 'Oh, of course! You won't actually listen to the man,' she thought angrily. But Johns stating "Just keep the hell away from him until I figure out where he stashed the body, god-damn-it!" was too much. Carolyn was not going to let Johns, cop or no, dictate someone's guilt when he couldn't even see that the man was clean. She stomped away from the redhead, took a deep breath off her oxygen, and walked inside on the lower level of the crash.

The docking pilot must have wandered away from the others, or perhaps Johns had pulled her aside and told her about his conversation with Riddick. Whatever the case, Jack froze at the top of the ladder and waited. The huntress was not about to let this challenger get a foothold before it could…

Fear caused her to slow her footsteps, as the man became more visible. She had taken it upon her shoulders to defend him; she had to do this, no matter how scared she was. The docking pilot forced the lump in her throat down, "So where is the body?"

The teen peaked out to watch the unmoving male form. The huntress coiled inside her, heating her groin, feeding on her strong emotions. Riddick didn't move or even indicate he heard the blonde talking. Instead, the killer was focused on his own darkness, as it struggled to surface in response to something in the air.

Carolyn Fry had no idea what her presence sparked, nor how the two inner beasts were trying to reach each other as both perceived her as a threat to its claim on the other. She waited a moment, wondering why she was bothering. Maybe he was just being a jerk. Maybe Johns was right. But then that would make Jack wrong. That thought didn't sit well. She tried again, "Well -- do you want to tell me about the sounds?"

Jack was amazed, through the haze of her shadow, that Fry was actually trying to plead Riddick's case with the others. Of course, the ex-ranger was experiencing everything through his own shadowy haze. The struggle was so all consuming that he was only dimly aware that the blonde was there. As such he didn't move a muscle.

The silence was starting to get to her, as was the building tension in the air. She felt irritated and it showed in her voice as she attempted again to get some reaction out of the man she was attempting to communicate to, "Look, you told Johns that you heard something." She waited for a few moments more, 'Damn, he's not even going to acknowledge that I'm here.' Getting nowhere and feeling somehow let down, Fry turned to leave the way she had come in. But something prompted her to try a parting shot, "That's fine. You don't want to talk to me, that's your choice. But just so you know…. There's a debate right now as to whether we should just leave you here to die." She had given up on trying to defend Riddick and was walking back toward a bright stab of light that marked the exit.

Something in her voice got Riddick's attention through the haze of his animal desire for the scent above him, "You mean the whispers?" His voice was husky, almost playful. A deadly purr.

His response made Carolyn start and freeze like a rabbit with a wolf hunting it, or perhaps a pack of them. Her heart thudded in her chest as the sensation of an animal predator overflowed the space, making the already dense air that much harder to breathe.

Jack moved quietly down the ladder a rung. The huntress was just as much after its prey as the hunter was.

Inside the chained killer, his inner beast circled, not wanting the docking pilot at the moment. No, it wanted the other, the one like itself… So near…

The docking pilot turned and walked back, taking the bait almost in spite of herself, "What whispers?" she asked in a soft rasp. She felt like she was on the edge of hyperventilating.

The huntress surged back to the forefront, causing Jack to fight for control again. Biting 'his' lip, Jack barely hung on to his sanity. Carolyn Fry must not know… The teen gripped the support in an effort to stay quiet, unmoving, not noticed…

Riddick forced his attention fully onto the 'captain' the animal in him hoping to drive her away, "The ones telling me to go for the sweet spot just to the left of the spine. Fourth lumbar down, the abdominal aorta. What a gusher."

Jack could tell that Fry realized Riddick was jerking her chain by the way she moved to one side. The she-monster wanted to laugh, Jack stifled the sadistic sound.

Riddick continued on, "It's a metallic taste, human blood. Copperish." Fry shifted from foot to foot. "If you cut it with peppermint schnapps it goes away --"

Carolyn listened to the bullshit for a moment. It was the 'copperish' bit that made her snap. "Do you want to shock me with the truth, now?" the docking pilot barked at the bound man.

Jack stared at Fry somewhat surprised by her angered reaction. Riddick nearly smiled as he mockingly turned his head toward her, keeping his eyes tightly closed. It was a pity that she hadn't cut and run for that would have opened the way for the other being in the room to come to him, but again, he had to give the docking pilot credit for her balls. Maybe he should tell her? Fine, he'd try; "_All_ you people are so scared of me. Most days, I'd take that as a_compliment_. But it ain't _me_ you gotta worry about now." Nope not him, the animal untamed behind her maybe, Johns for sure… and the predator waiting under those spire capped hills for something to happen.

Fry listened. She was not sure if Johns' speech outside was getting to her, or if there was something else going on, but the bound man filled her with fear. No, terror was a better word for what she felt. God, this man was dangerous. It seemed like the killer in him was part of the fucking room, not just the male chained in the corner. It was thick, so thick… stifling. And yet, hypnotic. Even if she had wanted to bolt and run she was not sure she could. Perhaps, though, Riddick was finally coming clean about something. There was a lengthening pause. She was going to have to drag what he knew out of him in bits and pieces. Fine then, she would just do that, "Show me your eyes, Riddick."

The convict's voice purred again, "You'd have to come a lot closer for that." Tension began to build in the darkened space. Riddick could smell the docking pilot's fear, and the other female, his tiny angel of so long ago, whose scent carried so much meaning to him was like a counter-point to it. Sweet against the tang. She was not afraid. His nose picked up hints of signs she was growing up, maturing. His deep inner beast stirred stronger, responding to the undercurrents in the changing odor…

Fry began to move toward the man in the corner who waited like a coiled viper, her body screaming with nervous tension. Part of her knew this was stupid, but she had to prove to him that she didn't follow Johns' logic. Something about what Jack had said was totally believable. She had to give this man, dangerous as he was, a chance to prove that he had not killed Zeke. Sure, he was an asshole but that didn't mean he was a liar. She edged closer step by step…

Under the cover of Fry's fear something electric began to flow through the room. Jack could see it, feel it, taste it…. It seemed to originate from Fry and connect to something inside the dark form in the corner, something inside—the huntress? Yes, her she-monster. Jack was nearly panting with effort to stay in control. At least that was what it seemed like from the 'boy's' nearly out-of-body position. The fake persona watched the bound man shift slightly but not enough to make a sound. Fry's slow footsteps formed a tempo that Jack was breathing to.

The ex-ranger's voice took on a seductive air to its purr, "Closer." Fry was not really the object of his command, not truly the one he wanted to call over, but she would have to do. Her fear made her gasp like a fish out of water. Riddick was aware of his mean streak, his inhumanity, taking over. The coiled beast still wanted to scare the blonde woman off; she was a threat to its claim, yet unmade, over the one it had been waiting for. The human in him was not sure about the dark thing's intention toward the one he still viewed as a child and that created a duality. How could he protect the very thing his own darkness desired? What was it about her that made what was inhuman about him rise up to be so overpowering? How could he keep it caged? It was fighting him, challenging him, battering against his inner defenses, and charging the air with unintentional signals. He could not keep it from filtering into the conversation.

Fry glanced around at Riddick's bindings.

And then he moved, a sudden blur, a spring set free, like a dog on a chain. Fry started back; Jack slid down to the floor. Riddick's face was in a shaft of light. His eyes glimmering like black diamonds with a sliver radiance set on creamy cloth. He ignored the sharp glaring pain from the self-inflicted torture. Currently, he couldn't see shit. Luckily his nose and ears were as sharp as ever.

Fry collected herself and nodded as she stared at the quicksilver orbs. Then the beast Riddick fought to keep in check turned to Jack. He focused his animal gaze right on the 'boy'. He couldn't see her, but he could smell her. The Darkness inside him reached out and caught the answering Darkness in her maturing soul. His missing half. The source of his driving need. The animal side settled down now that the connection was made, now that it knew. But the human side, Richard, could only protest against this development. She was the Sun and he was bound to her by the strength of his need. The animal need and the human need were very different though and the human didn't dare look too closely at the nature of that difference.

Fry felt some odd energy pass by her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw who else was there. Jack. The current flowed from the killer to the child and back again between them. It was electric, powerful. Erotic. And not at all the sort of thing that should, by rights, be occurring between a man and a boy. Two men, maybe. Two adults of any persuasion she could deal with, but this… It wasn't right. What the hell was going on? Her fear rooted her to the floor as the energy flowed around her, tickling her senses with an erotic caress that threatened to make her ill if she tried to think about who else was involved.

It occurred to Jack that the convict had always known 'he' was there. "Where the hell can I get eyes like that?" The youth was filled not with fear but with blatant desire. Duel desire. To be like the man and to be with the man. The sexual component pulsed deep below the hero worship. It surged through her maturing body, setting off reactions that she had no control over, reminding the male persona that 'his' hold over this female biology was fleeting. His monopoly over her mind slipped further.

"You gotta kill a few people," the animal darkness offered in a low rumble.

"Ok, I can do it." Jack was totally serious. 'He' fought for control. If killing a few people was what it took, than that was what 'he'd' do. The huntress pushed the fake male persona out of the damn way. It was what she'd do… to prove herself, to cement the offer that shimmered unspoken in the dusty tension. If he wanted her to kill she would without question. Jack didn't even see the internal takeover before it happened. Suddenly 'he' was shoved back and the huntress, she-demon and shadow, was taking control slyly, letting go of the ladder support and finding sure footage among the ruined shards of metal littering the floor. The energy surged anew between one darkness, female, and the other darkness, male. The connection was so strong that they didn't even need eye contact to maintain it.

Oh, the beast inside liked that. He would have never guessed that the darkness inside another could be so strong. He'd never met anyone else with the same animal side he possessed. He wanted her. But there was another to deal with. Riddick shifted his gaze back to Fry, holding her there, frozen in space, "Then you gotta get sent to a slam, where they tell you you'll never see daylight again." He knew his angel was listening, hanging on every word.

But Fry, well, only his stare pinned her down and she was breaking free from his spell, backing off slowly, her lip quivering in fear. Carolyn struggled with herself. 'Fuck! I landed this ship. I survived the crash. I don't need to be scared of this asshole.' Anger rose to displace the terror, washing it out and giving her strength to pull away. Riddick's gravelly voice rolled over her, "You dig up a doctor and you pay him 20 menthol Kools to do a surgical shine job on your eyeballs."

The youth grinned, her own inner darkness fully overwhelming the male persona, shattering it into shards that would never quite fit back together again, "So you can see who's sneaking up on you in the dark?"

Riddick took his eyes off Fry and looked over at the disguised teen. His inner beast liked what it sensed in her and for the first time in years he smiled, "Exactly." Something inside them understood. They had a shared duality of the same type. In their locked gaze, only an instant in time but forever in the space of thought, they communicated what words could not. Each knew within their inner beasts what their humanity would now try to deny. Need.

The expression that formed in Riddick's eyes as he looked at Jack alarmed the blonde. His spell over the docking pilot shattered, "Leave!" Fry ordered. Carolyn did not understand what she saw but was scared silly by it. There was a kind of rapture passing between the convict and child. It made her react in haste. But the order broke the connection, and Jack's face dropped. "Leave," she said in a calmer, almost pleading voice. The 'boy' tightened up his face and huffed out of the crash, ascending back up the ladder. But she did not go far. Jack stopped once she was out of sight just so she could listen to what ever else Riddick was gonna say.

"Cute kid," the large bronze-skinned man teased. He smiled for a second time at the docking pilot's motherly instincts to protect someone she thought was much younger than his nose said she was. His human side was battering him on the fact that the docking pilot was real and honest, if a bit ruthless. Worth saving if possible. The beast slowly came around to agree, on the chance that perhaps she wouldn't interfere with its chances.

Carolyn took the moment's respite to catch her breath and get her heart back under control. 'God, what the _fuck_ is going on here?' she wondered as the sensation of the killer seemed to fade back away. Suddenly Richard B. Riddick didn't seem so scary. She screwed up her face and looked at him. His entire attitude had shifted. He seemed like a totally different person.

Relaxing back into the corner on his heels, he focused on Fry. So she was trying to help him? 'Something's very dangerous in the hole, babe. But you aren't going to believe me without seeing it for yourself. None of you are. You're not ready to think I can tell the truth.' Still it was worth a shot if he could convince her. Okay… he'd play. "Did I kill a few people? Sure. Did I kill Zeke-man? No. You got the wrong killer."

'He's telling the truth,' her mind piped out. It was just instinctive trust. 'How odd… he's – telling the god-damned truth.' She shifted uncomfortably. 'If Riddick isn't the killer than what is? And why is Johns so against us finding out the real facts?' She wanted to sit down and look him in the eye again, be on the level with him, but the area didn't provide anything that would work as a seat. She sighed, "He's not in the hole. We looked." Well, she had looked after Jack pointed out the lack of blood on his clothes… What was left in the grave and the tunnel as far as the light would go was not enough to account for Zeke. Johns had been pushing his own theory about where 'sir-shiv-a-lot' had put the body and how he'd set up everything to make it look like he was not the killer. It did not seem to fit with the environment here.

The trap was sprung. "Look deeper," Riddick purred.

Fry's reaction was certain and immediate. Exactly what the ex-ranger was hoping for, she was going to take a closer look, right into the gates of hell if his instincts were correct. He listened as the docking pilot grabbed a safety belt, a coil of rope and a pick before moving outside. He could smell her fear solidify into determination. He couldn't fault Carolyn Fry for having guts, really. He liked that about her even if it did pose an internal problem with part of him that saw her as a threat. Right now it was more important to have an ally then to worry about how she might be interested in the girl. That was how he reasoned it. Jack was what she was going by, right? He could understand the name change, given what had happened when she was so young on Sigma 3. The sounds of feet running across the upper level brought his thoughts back to his current situation. Fry had set off at quite a pace, so it had to be Jack running off to catch up.

Johns, Shazza and Imam were still in deep debate about what to do with the convict chained up inside the crash when Fry shot out of the doorway looking like she was going caving. The blonde did not even spare the knot of adults a backward glance. The merc spotted her first and motioned toward the holy man and bushwhacker. Jack slid down the hull and hit the ground in a run. "Wait here, now -- Carolyn!" Johns tried to call Fry back. The docking pilot put up her hand to brush off his command. "Let me tell you what I think happened," he tried again as he upped his pace to catch up with her again. Jack caught up with the group as Johns pushed his theory, "I think he went off on the guy, buried him in the hills somewhere. Now he's got you believing there's something else out there."

"But there's no blood on him or his shiv," Jack tried again, gasping slightly from the run. Fry nodded in agreement without looking back. Shazza and Imam looked at the youth too. It was the first time either of them had been alerted to the fact that the murder weapon was clean.

"Maybe Sir shiv-a-lot licked it clean," Johns turned and looked at the boy. The kid was really getting on his nerves. And now he was defending the killer out loud when Johns would have preferred to keep it quiet. He shot the kid a cold look. Jack hardened his golden eyes and stared right back.

Fry sided with Jack, "Well, let's just be sure." She was going to look deeper because that was the right thing to do. The man chained inside was facing death or worse and she was not going to allow it to happen with out giving him a fighting chance.

Johns groaned inwardly. It was just not his day. Not at all. He turned back to the woman who seemed damn determined to waste time checking out every angle in what had to be and open and shut case. "Look, murders aside, Riddick belongs in the asshole hall of fame. He loves to jaw-jack and loves to make you feel afraid, because that's all he has. And you're playing right into it." Johns acted like he knew Riddick inside and out even more now that he was fighting to stay in control of the deteriorating situation.

And Fry was still not buying his line. She didn't know why, but something about Jack's logic just seemed right, and even if Riddick was fucking around with her mind she was not about to let Shazza fillet him alive without making sure that he'd actually done what he was accused of. Besides, Johns should know better. "I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you," she cut in, "You're a cop. For God's sake, we've got to find his body."

The group walked for several yards in silence. Jack watched Johns tighten his jaw. Was he a cop? There had to be ways to find out. Clearly something made Fry important to Johns, so what would he do if someone else went into the hole? Maybe it was time to find out, "Hey! I'll go."

Johns and Fry both looked back at the 'boy', speaking at the same time. "Look, no one else is going," Fry told Jack. Their eyes met. Carolyn registered something unusual in the boy's honey-toned eyes. Intelligence, wisdom even, beyond what was possible for a 10-year old and under that wildness that reminded her of the man back at the crash. Momentarily startled, she raised an eyebrow.

Johns put a hand on the youth's shoulder at the identical moment, ordering with his voice and manner, "Stay here." But he was trying to keep Fry from investigating too. He stepped between them and moved the boy back out of the way with the same motion. "Look, being ballsy with your life doesn't change what came before. It's just stupid." Jack found herself against Imam, who placed a calming hand on her arm.

The spike of fear at the look in Jack's eyes morphed into anger at John's words leaving the docking pilot anything but calm, "What?! Do you think I'm trying to prove something?" Fry dared Johns to dig deeper into some shared secret. She wanted to put her hands around the flame-haired man's throat and throttle some sense into him. How could he not understand that it was this type of behavior, giving someone the benefit of doubt, which separated them from criminals like he claimed Riddick was?

"Well, are you?" he asked. Clearly he didn't. Fry stared him down; aggravation building inside until she realized that Johns either didn't care, or had become so used to his view of Riddick that it was all he could see. She turned with a sigh and made her way to the grave.

About 20 paces to the edge of the blood-splattered pit, Jack's senses began to buzz. She'd felt it before, when Zeke had died. Her first thought was that Riddick made her feel that way, but now there was no chance that the convict was the source of the sensation. It grew stronger as they got closer to the hole.

The blonde lightly jumped down into the grave. All the bodies, every one of them, were gone. Jack toyed with asking Fry not to go. Something bad was in there. Instead the youth watched her as she clipped the rope to the safety belt and moved over to the blood-splattered hole. Fry looked back at them, getting an 'okay' nod from Imam, before kneeling down in the rocky soil and working the hole larger with the pick.

Jack took up part of the rope, inline with Shazza and Imam. Johns stood back and shook his head. Fry slowly wormed her way into the hole and out of sight. All they could do was wait. After a time Shazza tossed down the rope in disgust, "She's not gonna find anything. Zeke's not in there!" Jack watched her begin to pace. Johns moved over and picked up the rope where Shazza had been holding it, almost in spite of himself. Then they felt the rope go taunt. All three of them. Imam moved down into the grave, cocking his head as if he could hear something. That drew Shazza back. Jack thought she could hear something now too, but not coming from the hole.

At the same time, back at the crash site, Riddick crouched in the dark, trying to force back growing panic. 'What the fuck have I done? Sent the one person who was gonna give me a fair shake to her death, that's what. So now what?' He didn't know the answer, but he felt it. He began to work the chains and the clips holding him to the wall. Carefully at first, then with increasing tempo he clanged the chains trying to get even one of them to give. The single thought in his mind was to stop the madness he'd started and to save the docking pilot's life.

"I thought I heard something," Imam looked back at them. Jack dropped the rope and began to swivel her head trying to locate where she was hearing Fry's voice. It was faint. Jack looked around and began to run for one of the pinnacles. The others noticed. Shazza grabbed the pick from the bottom of the grave and followed. She handed it off to Johns who hacked away at the side of the thing. Once a hole was large enough Imam thrust his hand through and felt around. Soon Johns put his hand through too.

Jack held her breath. The two men caught something. Fry's head emerged through the hole. "Give me your goddamn hand," Johns ordered as he reached for the safety belt.

"I heard you, Fry. I heard you first, " Jack told the shaken woman as Johns and Imam set her on her feet.

"Come on," Johns was saying as he led her further away from the funnel.

"Fry, are you ok?" Jack asked.

Imam asked, "What's down there? What is it?"

Shazza butted in, desperate for something about Zeke; "Did you find Zeke?"

"You're all right," Johns continued.

"Fry, are you ok?" Jack was not sure about Johns' off-the-cuff assessment.

"Ok." Johns let go of Fry.

"Fuck!" Fry said as she caught her breath. "That was so fucking stupid." She looked back at the pinnacle, "I don't know what the fuck is in there, but whatever it is --" she was clearing Riddick of wrongdoing, Jack realized suddenly as Fry continued, " – it got Zeke, and it nearly got me -- ahhhhh!"

Suddenly Fry was sliding backwards, screaming. And they were all scrambling to catch her. Shazza caught Fry's feet, Johns her waist. Fry braced herself against the opening and turned as Johns pulled her back. Jack caught the safety belt, holding it so that Imam could cut it. All the while Fry was screaming, "Get it off of me! Get it off of me! Get it off --!" Jack let go of the belt before it cut her hands, and it whooshed past Fry and down into the hole lightening fast.

Fry sank down to the ground, sobbing.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Riddick heard them returning. 'So the docking pilot made it out alive. Another reason for me to like her,' the convict thought. The group milled around outside while Johns told Paris about what had happened to Zeke and the bodies he had tried to bury. The pasty, snobbish fellow made a gagging noise at the merc's vivid imaginative retelling of how some predator, worse than the killer chained up inside, had torn a skilled survivalist into tiny shreds of flesh. Shazza told Johns to cut out his shit and leave the art-dealer alone. The conversation turned to what they should do with the man inside. Shazza was considerably calmer about him now, having discovered that there was a doubt that he'd killed her life-mate.

Jack listened for a while to the adults bickering over the problem, then crept back inside. In her backpack were some medical supplies, things lifted at the spaceport. Among those supplies was a tube of ointment for cuts. It formed a clear seal over the wound. Jack made a decision. She pulled the salve out of the backpack and moved over to where Riddick was crouched. "No cutting torch this time, I'm afraid," Jack whispered, "but I got some salve for that wound on your head."

Killer or no, the big man smiled softly at the kid's attitude. She was worth saving. It was a comfort enough to have her this close, although his beast stirred with determination to make a claim on her. The human side, Richard, clamped down on the animal circling internally like a panther in a cage that was too small. 'I can't hurt her, you know,' it reasoned with him, 'chained, just like you are. Makes her safe. She is ready now.' Yet he fought it back. What his darkness wanted from this tiny spark did not matter. He had to play it slow. He closed his eyes as she stepped into his personal space, totally unafraid of him hurting her. Her scent was strong. Faintly copperish. He took in a breath full of it. She was no longer a child. He'd already known. Give it time. He hissed as Jack touched the tip of the tube to the wound and gingerly spread the salve with a gentle fingertip. Something else she knew how to do from experience. Like the water. Riddick figured that she'd tended to a cripple at some point. It was time to let her know that he knew her from before. From a time when they lived on a wild, rough planet filled with nasty creatures called Spitfires. From his time on the other side of the law. "You from Sigma 3?" Riddick kept his voice low and soft so that it did not carry. He turned his face toward her neck; close to her ear at first then dropped it more toward her shoulder.

Jack noticed Riddick's move, that he was almost too close. "Why?" The male persona was once again pushed out of the female body, reminded harshly that it did not belong. Her heart thudded in her chest at an uncomfortable pace for a moment before settling down again. There was something about this man that was so…different…than the men she'd feared. He was not threatening her. He was not trying to touch her. He was not leering at her. Yet she was feeling something altogether new, and it scared her just a bit.

"Cause there's only one place where the dirt carries it's own special scent, and tourists usually don't go there." Riddick was watching very closely for signs that his darkness was right about her. There was a faint tinge of pink on her face. A different tempo to her breathing. He could see she was experiencing something for the first time, and that it frightened her. He let the situation stew for a moment, enjoying the additional overtones that rose off of her in her odor.

Jack swallowed. Did she have some invisible sign around her neck or something?

The ex-ranger smiled, "Either that, or you remind me of someone I used to know, a long time ago." His voice softened into a soothing tone, breaking her fear and washing it away. Jack moved back a bit, leaning slightly, looking for other injuries. "I knew a woman there, on Sigma 3. She had a daughter who would be just about your age now."

She could feel his stare on her face, like he was studying every feature. "Yeah? 'Lots of kids my age there…" Jack whispered not meeting those quicksilver eyes. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, how could she lie to this man? There was something so familiar…. She twisted to the side spotting an injury that needed tending.

"And your mother's name would be?" Riddick inquired softly as the teen worked on a scrape on his arm.

"Aubrey," Jack said. The truth came out so easy. She never even thought about her mother's name before, even though she heard a hundred men say it. Still, it was so unlikely that Riddick really knew her. Jack's view of her mother was that of a wasted, washed out, beaten – whore…. Had she ever been pretty enough to catch a man like Riddick's attention?

The bound convict did not move. It was all he needed to know. Sigma 3 had been on his mind for months serving as a distraction from his ever-present problem of how to slip Johns. It had been a long time since he'd even thought about whom he'd known in the past and here it was staring him in the face. "Funny, that's not a common name. How likely do you think it would be for two women with that name on a world with a very small population to have children who are the same age?" Riddick asked. He did know her…he had rescued her from the slave pits. He had come across a brutal stoning with his men and broke it up, to find three people, an old man, a woman just barely older than himself at the time, and a toddler-aged girl in the center of a pit. The man had curled himself around the woman and child, but was little more than a bloody, battered, bag of shattered bone. The woman, Aubrey, was bruised, battered, but alive. And the girl… She was right here in front of him. But back then he had managed to keep the woman and her daughter safe and hidden for eighteen months. The best time of his entire cursed life had been with them, and he had doted on the girl like she was his own flesh and blood…

"Not likely at all," Jack looked at him with alarm…. The male persona shattering for a second time that day. It would never be more than an act now. Something to pretend, and it wasn't even a good shield anymore, shattered as it was. "Please don't tell…" Her eyes welled up with panicked tears.

"Now, don't…." Riddick started somewhat harshly. Then he remembered how he quieted the tot that he'd all but adopted, "Shush, babe." Riddick's voice had a dreamy quality to it, one that struck a cord with Jackie, calming her, drying the tears. Echoing back to a time when she felt totally safe, back to when her mother's voice had been filled with love. Jackie swallowed and nodded. Riddick's attention was above them. Jackie now heard it too. Johns, walking. Coming closer. "Go hide." Riddick ordered with a barely audible whisper. His eyes told Jackie where to go. She dodged away; securing herself behind a container just as Johns came down the ladder with his shotgun over his shoulder. Cold fear gripped Jackie's belly as she peaked out to watch what was happening. They must have finally convinced Shazza to agree with them. Or Shazza had convinced them….

Johns came down the ladder and walked past the teen's hiding spot. He carried his full complement of weapons; minus the handgun he'd given Zeke that was now lost inside a burrow that no one was stupid enough to go back into. He had made progress with Shazza even if he had to side with the docking pilot on Riddick's innocence about Zeke's death. Not that he liked admitting that the convict didn't kill someone he'd accused him of killing, but this time he realized that the large man's skills might save their asses. He could use that, then turn him over for one last time and the universe would go on its merry way. The merc paused in the archway with his shotgun over his shoulder and looked at the black garbed figure crouched in the shadows. Time to put on the best bullshit act he could and pray that Riddick bought it. He cleared his throat to get the ex-ranger's attention.

Riddick, for his part, was relaxed enough, or at least that was how it seemed to Jackie who was carefully watching everything from her hidden vantage. He lazily shifted his position to show Johns that he knew the merc was there, not looking as he spoke, "Finally found something worse than me, huh?" Riddick was playing with Johns. Toying with him like a cat with a mouse. Jackie smiled.

Johns clenched his jaw. He did not like the convict's attitude. He did not like that fact that Riddick was trying to push his buttons. This was not a game. He was deadly serious. He put the shotgun in its holster and shifted to one side, resting an arm up on a support, "So here's the deal. You work without chains, without bit, and without shivs. You do what I say, when I say it."

Riddick focused on the fake-badge's face with his metallic stare. He knew Johns, his own personal blue-eyed devil, was not one to let a payday slip by. There had to be a catch and not just of the behave-or-I-shoot-you variety. So what was his ploy? "For what?" Riddick's voice hardened. He was no longer playing. Suddenly the stakes were too high for it. "The honor of going back to some asshole of a cell? Fuck you."

Johns shifted. Jackie thought he might be nervous. In reality he was trying to get the words spoken just right, just sincerely enough for them to seem truthful. It all hinged on Riddick believing that he'd give up the money, "The truth is -- that I'm tired of chasing you." It was… the truth in reality. Just letting Riddick go free wasn't really part of the plan. Johns wasn't altogether sure that Riddick believed him, but it was this or a messy death for everyone.

It might have surprised Riddick too, if he was buying the tale hook, line and sinker. But he wasn't. Johns was well able to tell clever half-truths, misdirection, and even outright double-crossings. This could be any of those things. Jackie could see he was working everything through, feeling it all out. There was something in his position, the way he held his head that broadcast his doubt. Yeah, Johns was telling the truth. He was tired of the chase. That was why they were heading to Tangiers in the first place. Johns was not about to give up the final reward, but in this case it might be good to just play along, to wait for the right time…. "Are you saying you'd cut me loose?"

Johns shook his head, realized that he'd answered wrong, then said, "I'm thinking you could have died in the crash." He hoped the convict hadn't noticed.

Something was not right about this 'deal' Jackie concluded. It seemed Riddick felt so too. His voice was hard, taunting with a deadly edge, "My recommendation: Do me." Jackie's heart caught in her throat. She wanted to burst out into the open but didn't dare. Something in Riddick's stance told her that if she stepped in now he'd be just as likely as Johns would to hurt her. So she froze, after flipping her back to the scene, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, and Riddick's voice ringing through her skull, "Don't take the chance that I'll get shiv-happy on your wanna-be ass."

"Okay," Johns said. Jackie heard the shotgun scrape in the holster.

"Ghost me, mother-fucker. That's what I'd do to you." A dare? A death-wish? Jackie didn't know, but she could feel the tension mounting. She heard the shotgun slap against Johns' palm and then fire. Part of her curled into a sickened pit of cold fury even though she did not move. She heard Riddick's chains hit the floor, but did not hear a thud of a body. Jackie opened her eyes. She still did not dare to breathe.

"I want you to remember this moment. The way it could have gone and didn't. Here." Johns had not killed him. Jackie dropped her head forward. The cold ball inside her still did not go away. She felt slightly sick. Relieved, but sick. Then she heard sudden noise. It made her jump, twist, and look at what was happening. Riddick had Johns' shotgun leveled on Johns' throat. His face was a mass of murderous rage. Johns had his hands up. 'Maybe he's shitting his pants,' Jackie thought, 'It would serve him right.' Johns quickly attempted to talk the tension down, "Take it easy."

"FUCK YOU!" Riddick shouted at him. Jackie could tell he wanted to just blow Johns away, right here, right now. He ratcheted a shell into the barrel, then spotted Jackie's face watching him.

"Do we have a deal?" Johns asked.

Riddick relaxed his rage. It was not the right time, the right way. He took a deep breath, "I want you to remember this moment." He lowered the gun, watching Jackie as he did so, then he threw the gun off to the side and moved away. The first thing he needed to do was make sure that there was someone here to watch his back besides Jack. Although she had been doing one heck of a job at working Johns' stranglehold loose on her own.

The ex-marine stood frozen and still until the killer's light footsteps faded into crunching in the alien soil. His entire being was numb from the raw blow of emotions that had been directed his way. After a time he moved to retrieve his gun from where it had landed. His mind remained blank, likely from the shock that it was still encased in his brainpan. In a haze he moved to follow the black clad man's path out of the crash, not aware that someone else had witnessed the entire episode.

Jackie ducked back out of Johns' view. She sat there until she was alone then looked at the tube of ointment crumpled in her hand. She shivered inside, her body finally waking up the rest of the way from the cryo-sleep. The sick feeling solidified into cramps. It was going to be a lot harder to play the role of a boy…

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Carolyn Fry watched the bronze skinned figure emerge from the crash. Part of her was relieved that he was no longer in chains and part of her knotted with worry. Something about the dynamics between the two men's relationship was odd. It was hard to tell which one was the good guy sometimes. They were so alike, yet so different from one another. Her eyes followed the convict until his form disappeared from view as he went inside the detached cargo compartment. Imam seemed to welcome Riddick's help. That had to be something in the killer's favor, right? She had heard the shotgun go off. A stupid waste of ammo, really. After a long while the company man walked out of the crumpled ship body and towards her, "So? Can we trust him?" She asked as he got closer. Her answer was a shrug. "Johns?" She fought back her feelings against him. It had been drilled into her that Company people had to stick together in the face of the unknown.

The intense look from the docking pilot broke through the dazed feeling in his brain. He thought for a moment, watching the emotions play over the docking pilot's face, "Can we afford not to, Carolyn?" The redheaded man told her, "I'll keep an eye on him, but as long as he thinks he's going free it'll be okay." Okay so that hadn't come out right. The blonde woman gave him an odd look, but didn't say anything. "We got bigger problems anyhow. Likely if we are going to survive the ghost town is better suited for it than the crash. Besides the holy man thinks he can get the water running again, and the boys said there was food stores there. Emergency rations like those don't go bad. And there's the skiff…" Not that he personally thought that the damn thing was going to do them any good, but it was a source of hope, something they desperately needed at the moment. And maybe the communications would work if nothing else…

"Yeah, I'll see what Imam and I can rig up to carry a power cell. I just hope the electric adapts," she started to walk away. "Johns? Rally the troops and tell everyone that we're going to move." He nodded at her, then rolled his eyes at her back as she moved off toward the cargo hold. Fry felt his change in attitude almost as soon as she turned her back. What was the deal? Who should she be worried about, Johns or Riddick? She suppressed a sigh. The fact was that she didn't know and if she continued to take things at face value things would likely go downhill fast. So how would she handle the situation if it were two co-workers? 'Follow your gut, girl,' she answered herself, 'just keep your cards close to your chest and follow your gut.' Right now her instincts were to keep both unknowns at a distance and stick to Imam's side…


	7. Ghost Town

**A/N: **I've shuffled the entire march to the settlement over to this chapter instead of having half of it in the previous one. Upon revision it just seemed to fit better here.

_A Passage, 7_

**Ghost Town**.

Jackie finally moved into the sunlight and total chaos as Johns revealed that the decision had been made to move. She did not see Fry, Imam, or Riddick at first. And Johns was being very much like a slave driver over the three pilgrims until she starting helping them. Johns made like it was his idea for her to gather what she could and help them load the sled that Zeke had used to move the bodies over to the grave. In her scrounging she discovered Paris sorting through his liquor for the ones he wanted to take with him and filling yet another brocade shoulder bag. She spotted Imam and Fry working on adapting a bit of netting near the battery bank and wondered what it was for. She found Riddick was packing crates with things that he'd been told they would need, mostly from the bushwhacker's cargo area. Shazza stayed outside with the sled, working with some cable.

The two older boys came into the cargo hold and began hefting up the larger boxes and carrying them outside. Soon the sled was piled high with all types of supplies. Just about everything they could find or salvage that might be useful was loaded up. Most of it was liquor and emergency rations but there were tools, oxygen tanks, and emergency medical supplies too. After the sled was filled everyone scoured the storage hold for things they could carry. All additional bags, packs, and purses were claimed and filled. Jackie found a pair of yellow goggles with dark-lenses, additional emergency protein tablets, some clothing, a tiny Swiss-army-style knife, and a few pieces of jewelry that went into her backpack. Fry and Imam pulled a power-cell and struggled into a hammock-like sling for it. Paris selected some of his smaller but more valuable treasures to take back with him in the hope that the trip would not be a total loss. Shazza handed the harness for pulling the sled over to Riddick before picking up her own bag. Her face was still hard.

The ex-ranger took the cable harness and tried to push out of his mind how much weight was on the sled. Over three times his own he estimated. It was amazing really that so much could be salvaged from the crash ship. Riddick shrugged into the harness with nary a word, falling into pace behind the marching group as they set off toward the settlement. He focused on keeping pace with the others by ignoring the protest of his muscles and the fire in his lungs. The wheezing of the man stumbling in front of him only made it harder to keep his attention on placing one foot another through the stitch in his side that seemed to be the result of Shazza's well aimed kick.

For a while everyone marched in silence. The bushwhacker was still angered. It churned inside as they marched. The hostility inside her was the only think keeping the grief back. But she now had a twinge of guilt that perhaps the killer accused had not done it. That made it just bearable, but not enjoyable, to walk with him free in their midst. "So just like that, he's one of us now?" She questioned Johns finally.

"Now, I didn't say that. But at least this way I don't have to worry about you all going to sleep and not waking up," Johns told her.

Jackie was walking near the back. Near Riddick. But she did not dare say anything to him. He didn't seem to mind her keeping pace with him. In fact he seemed to be ignoring her. Maybe he didn't want to get her into trouble. So they walked together against the azure sunset in muteness until Jackie couldn't stand it any longer. She moved past Fry and Imam and fell into pace with Johns and Shazza. "So, can I talk to him now?" she asked them.

All four adults in unison answered, "No."

Jackie shook her head and moved up to Ali and his brothers, passing Paris in the process. At least she could talk to the boys. Behind her, Paris was struggling to keep place. Even with the breather he was wheezing. And all he was caring was one smallish bag. As he adjusted it the other adults passed him, and Jack heard something kind of slosh out of the bag. "Oh, blast," he mumbled, not realizing for several steps that he'd dropped something. Jack glanced back to see both Paris and Riddick go for the bottle. Jack tugged Ali's sleeve and got him to slow down, just to watch the scene play out. Turning and walking backwards, she grinned as the antique dealer introduced himself, shook the convict's hand and tried to impress the larger man with his knowledge about the contents of the bottle only to have Riddick calmly pop it open and drain the entire full bottle down in one swallow. All Paris could do was look on meekly as the convict discarded the bottle and resumed pulling the sled.

The lay of the land gradually became steeper, the rocky soil making it difficult for everyone to keep his or her feet. The two children found themselves walking just in front of Riddick as Imam glanced back at the struggling man's face. They had reached the hill leading to the bone-yard and the ex-ranger was clearly straining to pull the heavy sled up the incline. Imam must have been moved by his effort, "Can we at least give the man some oxygen?" He asked. Paris had fallen in behind the sled, puffing on his breather like it was a lifeline.

Johns glanced back as Jack said, "I'll do it."

"He's happy just being vertical, leave him alone," Johns scolded. Imam scowled at the tone in the merc's voice. Fry noted the holy man's face and turned enough to look at Jack. Then she saw the difficulty that the sled was posing. Defying Johns she nodded to the youth. Shazza sensed the plot and picked up speed, reaching the top of the hill and moving down the other side. Jackie handed the mouthpiece to Riddick once Shazza and Johns were out of sight. Fry and Imam paused at the crest and waited as Ali and his brothers passed them.

Riddick took a long hit off of Jack's oxygen and looked at Fry. This was totally unexpected but he'd take the kindness where he could get it. Jack he understood, Carolyn he didn't. The docking pilot gave him a curt nod, meeting his goggles with her blue eyes. It was at that moment that the ex-ranger realized how much Johns bothered Fry. Interesting.

Johns called, "What is the hold up?"

The art-dealer reached the sled and passed it as Imam said to the ex-marine, "It is a steep hill, give Paris time to climb it."

Riddick turned away from the docking pilot and nodded to Jack in an attempt to get her to move away from him. Instead once he began to pull the sled, she fell into step again just like she had back at the crash site. Not the brightest thing to do, but he knew why she was doing it and was glad she was there.

Johns reappeared on the crest next to Fry, "Not what I meant," he said to Imam. Then to Jack, "Get your ass away from him!" Riddick let off a nearly inaudible growl deep in his throat directed at his blue-eyed devil as he lowered his head. Carolyn frowned at the Merc's back. She moved up to Fry and Imam. Johns motioned them to go ahead. Jack heard Riddick reach the top. Johns stood by and let him wrestle the sled up, over, and switch-backed down. He fell into place behind him before moving up next to the struggling bent form attached to the sled. Then the ex-marine leaned in and said, "I'm watching your vampire-ass."

The words sent the disguised teen scurrying up to the pilgrims. Ali told Jack that they were almost to the settlement as she caught up with him again. He pointed out the canyon and said that the structures began just on the other side of the hill at the end. The canyon walls and bones gave some relief from the relentless heat that had only slightly abated in the twilight between the setting of the blue sun and the rising of the twin suns just teasing the horizon. Jack could feel Johns' eyes burning a hole in her back. The words 'wanna-be ass' echoed through the youth's brain in Riddick's voice. 'So Johns was a Merc,' she thought. A child-killer, too. And she was on his radar. Yeah, it was stupid…. But she had to keep up the act; so far Johns thought she was a boy. She had to make sure he kept thinking it. She scarcely noticed the distance through the canyon. The sound of the wind over the pre-fab Aluminex buildings was hauntingly similar to the place she'd left behind. Chills ran up her spine as she looked over the townscape from the last ridge. It was all too familiar. Like walking back into one of the mining clusters on Sigma 3, but without the trees or people.

The familiarity of the building type was clear to the ex-ranger too. Thirty years out of date or so, he reckoned. Old stuff even when he was with the company. Being phased out if he recalled correctly. Sigma 3's worker towns were made from recycled mismatched housing from this era. Walking into this settlement was eerie; truly it was a ghost town. He hauled the sled with Johns at his side, breathing down his neck. The group hiked into the center of town where the merc pointed out the communal room, "Unload the sled there." Riddick looked at his tormentor, his face like stone, giving away nothing, and pulled the sled the remaining distance before lifting the harness off his shoulders. Something important was up. He was going to find out what. Paris, Imam, Shazza and Fry were already around the corner and Johns was nearly there too by the time the harness was off. The convict decided to follow, leaving the children to unload the sled. What he saw around the corner made him raise an eyebrow. Now he understood the need for the power cell.

Jack didn't follow right away although she did watch the adults go. Hassan and Suleiman went to work hauling the heavier boxes inside. After a bit Jack joined Ali in lifting some of the lighter stuff. Only once the sled was empty did she head around the corner to find out what the adults were up to. The three brothers were already hard at work on the water unit so she decided not to bother them. Her approach to the Skiff was highlighted by Paris stating, "…Usually I can appreciate antiques, but, uh, this…" She looked at the small ship. Well, it was in better shape than the crash, but not by much.

"A little ratty-assed," Johns agreed as Jack walked up to the ramp.

"Nothing we can't repair as long as the electrical adapts," Fry assured the group. She kneeled down and grabbed the power-cell. They had stood and gawked for almost the entire time it took her to coach the door open. At least the seals were still good which was a nice thing, it would have been a right downer to find this skiff and the door not reseal. If the hull was intact and the power cell could get the engines started they would have a way off this baked and broiled world. In her mind that raised the chances of living quite a bit.

"Not a Star-Jumper," Shazza stated.

Riddick, who was listening quietly, surprised everyone but Jack when he spoke, "Doesn't have to be. Take a two-seater like this back up to the Sol-Track Shipping lanes; stick out a thumb, bound to get picked up. Right, -- Captain?" He was standing in an unassuming position, in the stark sunlight, looking completely comfortable and sure of himself.

Fry looked over at Johns. The question of how much trust they could place in the convict and how much he knew flowed through that look. The she said, "Can I get some help here?" Riddick began to walk forward. Paris and Imam both reached for the power-cell.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." Johns stepped between Riddick and the skiff. "Do me a favor, and um, check out those containers over there. See what we got to patch the wings up with."

Both Jackie and Riddick took at as their cue to leave. They went different directions. Riddick made a show of checking the containers before moving further into the town to find out what really happened here. He had a bad feeling that it had to do with the predators that killed Zeke, but he would not state anything to that effect until he had some proof. He followed his nose for his first direction.

Jackie's exploration took her into dusty buildings and dusty rooms filled with all manner of stuff. Way too much stuff. She found a toilet and decided to take care of her long overdue problem. A search turned up sanitary supplies for just the occasion and a couple of boxes of moist wiping cloths too. "Well, so much for waiting until Tangiers," she mumbled. A though hit her. Were there more clothes here? She began to look around for clean underclothes, socks, panties, and shirts… She discovered that at least two of the children here had been near her size. She erred on the side of too big. The bloody stuff she'd leave behind then. It would be good to wear clean clothes next to her skin. She salvaged whatever she could, including a couple of over-shirts and a spare pair of pants. Thankful that she felt cleaner than before even though she did not dare to change her outer clothes, she stuffed the dirty things, including her wet, plastic wrapped bundle, into a drawer and closed it.

She had just turned back to her pack and was unloading it to re-pack the new finds when Riddick opened the door. He too was exploring. Jackie didn't wave; Riddick saw her, even in the dark. He moved over and crouched down across from her, eyeing over her things, noting just as she had that there was too much stuff left here. "Stash your pack on the skiff," he said. Then just as suddenly he had walked out the door, leaving Jackie alone again.

It was after that she found the razor. It was dusty and dulled from time. She blew off what she could and used a wet wipe to clean it the rest of the way. After adding her cap to the pack she began to shave her head. The dull razor pulled as much as it cut. It hurt like all hell, but it would look so stupid to only do half of the job so she sucked back the tears and finished shaving her head. She hoped her scalp was not bleeding anywhere. Her hair had been dirty anyhow, and she could not come up with a better way to keep everyone else guessing. Currently her fear that Johns was beginning to remember her as being the kid with his wallet overrode other concerns. Better to change her appearance while she had an excuse. 'Sides Riddick wouldn't mind, surely. She wiped her head with a wet wipe, hissed at the sting, and picked up her pack. Then she reached for the yellow goggles before opening the door. It was bright out. She put the goggles on and tried again. Better. First thing was to get the pack into the communal room and find the skiff. She began scouting around, getting her bearings. She traced her way back to the main room, spotting the empty sled.

Ali popped through the door, having been chased off by his brothers as being underfoot. Jack walked up and patted his shoulder. "I spotted Riddick off over that way. Let me put this down and we'll go find him, okay?" Ali nodded glad for some exciting thing to do. Soon Jack and Ali were trailing Riddick's investigation. They looked on as Riddick studied the dead gardens, long untended. As he noted broken windows and skylights all with their shutters closed tightly. As he poked through scattered outdoor furniture too heavy to be upended by wind alone, not to mention the roughly strewn and bent or broken dishes and flatware. He picked up a spoon from the soil and studied its warped shape.

More and more the ex-ranger was finding signs of a panic induced flight. The tiny nicks in the metal spoon he held looked to be like smaller versions of the marks in the rib cage back at the bone yard. Faint evidence of water flows marked the edges of the buildings sheltered from the wind. Something made his senses tingle slightly. Still putting the pieces together, Riddick dropped the spoon and scanned around. A glassy glint caught his eye, an object covered with dusty dirt. It was out of place. He'd not seen anything shiny about the soil here. Jackie and Ali had no idea what had caught Riddick's eye, but both were intent on finding out. Riddick reached the item and lifted a crushed hand-light out of the dirt. It was the first and only light he'd seen here. He looked up at the building he was in front of. Very sturdy construction, tarps draped over the roof, bars on the door windows… he noted it all even as he smelled Jackie getting closer. A pair of broken eyeglass frames turned up in the dirt, buried like they sank into a muddy pool.

The flash of light from a broken lens caught her attention. "Come on," Jack whispered to Ali. He nodded and the two children crept around to the back of the building where Riddick was investigating. Jack scaled to the roof, thinking Ali would follow. The soft sounds of Riddick nosing around in the light soil reached Jackie's ears. Then there was a pause followed by the heavy door rattling. 'Of all the buildings here, why is this one locked?' Jackie wondered. She heard the tarp she was behind rustle. She caught her breath.

The convict tried the door. His ears caught the sounds of chain rattling on the other side. Padlocked from the inside? He peered through the dusty window, trying to make out what the building was used for. Lifting his head he noticed some writing. The tarp hid the words "Coring Room." Riddick was pondering that new bit of information when a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by the sound of a hand slapping a cloth-covered thigh. "C'mon, boy." It was Johns. He whistled again, like a master calling his dog, "You're missing the party." Inwardly the muscular man groaned. Leave it to Johns to keep him on a short leash… Johns did not wait to see if Riddick followed, it was too damn hot out to be standing in the fucking sun.

Jackie was suddenly startled by the tarp flying away at high speed. She found herself looking directly into Riddick's smirking face. He had turned half way towards Johns, but was looking back at Jackie. She could tell that he had known she was there. "C'mon, you're missing the party," he echoed with a teasing bob of the head. Then he turned and followed Johns around the corner.

"Ah, man…." Jackie said to herself as she shook her head. "C'mon, Ali…." She called out. Then she worked herself down to the ground. But Ali had not followed Jack up into the roof. He instead was nosing around the outside of the building and discovered an opening in the panels that made up the walls. He worked his way through the rolled up metal without bothering to notice the evidence of razor sharp talons that had created the gap in the first place… and caught the edge of the tarp with one foot displacing the center of its weight just enough to make it slide slowly. He was so eager to have an adventure that was unique that he boldly explored the large room moving away from the opening without regard for his position in relation to it.

Jackie lightly found her footing and began off after the adults to find Riddick was waiting for her around the corner. They walked back to the common room together, just behind Johns. Riddick brushed a hand over Jackie's buzzed head, but didn't say anything.

Johns didn't look back. The merc already knew that Riddick made points with the kids first. It was a soft spot he could exploit, yet again. The convict never learned. Still, there was something about Jack that was different. Maybe it was the kid's obvious intelligence, or his strength, both physical and mental, which rattled Johns' hold over the perceptions that the others had about the killer. The kid was just too damn convincing, and it was his plunk, spark, hope even, that seemed to keep everyone on his or her toes. Shazza particularly. And he needed the bushwhacker's know how to keep Riddick in line. If he lost Shazza's support then the others would fall quickly. Then he'd have to kill the S.O.B. and take a pay cut. Johns reached the common room and entered.

Riddick was just a moment behind. He entered the common room without pausing and accepted a goblet of water from the bottom of the first pitcher. So it had silt floating in it. It was still water, and these folks were still treating him better than Johns would like. Imam actually looked apologetic about the sediment. For a hoodoo holy man, the fellow was all right in Riddick's book. Maybe it was the simple fact that Imam was not judging him. Maybe it was the fact that Fry's instincts indicated he was a good man. Or maybe it was just plain luck, but Riddick found himself warming to the dark-skinned man. He was not sure he liked that fact. The ex-ranger backed into a connecting room and was struck by the numbers of pictures lining the shelves and the clear volume of scientific data scattered about in there…

Jack stopped at the door, waiting for a moment for Ali to show up. It was hot, and being so close to water, hearing it splashing, made her realize how parched she was. She pushed the door open and went over to the table where the goblets were sitting. There were two left. Pushing up the yellow goggles, she reached past Paris to snag one. He, Johns and Fry noticed the new hair cut at the same time. She stared at them right back, "What?"

"It's the winner of the look-alike contest," Paris joked. Not with Jack but at Jack. It was a mistake as the huntress revealed herself again. Paris knew that look; he met those amber eyes and saw that same intense wild stare that had chilled him before. It was punctuated with a scowl focused directly at him. Shaken, he moved to put distance between himself and Jackie before she bit him. His path took him over to Shazza, "So who were these people, anyway? Miners?"

"Looks like geologists," Shazza held up a good-sized crystal in an examining holder, "You know, an advance party that goes from rock to rock."

Riddick stepped back into the doorway, and his eyes followed the docking pilot's realization that there was just too much stuff here. Way too much. Jack noted it too, and followed his silver gazed over to the troubled blonde. Fry was poking through a cupboard filled with expensive dishes. She paused and looked at her goblet, drained the water and stepped back to the table. "Nice of them to leave so much of their stuff here." She put the goblet down and Johns refilled it, "So, why'd they leave their ship?"

In the uncomfortable silence that followed, Shazza sat down. Finally, Johns topped off his own water and said, "It's not a ship. It's a skiff. Disposable, really."

"Like an emergency life-raft, right?" Paris ventured.

"Sure, " Shazza chimed in; "They likely had a real drop-ship take them off planet--"

"These people didn't leave. Whatever got Zeke, got them. They're all dead." Riddick interrupted her. The pieces were falling into place. It was time to let them all know that something had happened that made the predators come through this settlement with ravenous fury. Could it have been a mining accident? A blood scent? All he had to go on was the fact that Zeke had been working with the dead. Everyone but Jack and Imam glared at him. He put his goggles back on. Exasperated, he continued, "You don't think they left with their clothes on the hooks and pictures on the walls --?"

"Maybe they had weight limits!" Shazza snapped, "You don't know!"

"I know you don't uncrate your fucking emergency skiff unless there's a fucking emergency," he said deadly calm.

"Fuckin' right!" Jack let it slip out before thinking.

"Watch your mouth," Johns wagged a finger Jack's direction.

"He's just stating what we're all thinking," Fry pointed her first comment at Johns but her second was at Riddick, "So, what happened? Where are they?"

But Riddick was watching Imam. And Imam was noticing that there remained an unclaimed goblet. Jack looked at Imam herself and watched him walk over to the window, finally he turned slightly and asked, "Has anyone seen the little one? Ali?"

Riddick's next statement answered both Fry's and Imam's questions and he said it right to Jack as if she knew the answer, "Anyone check the Coring Room?"

A faint scream wafted through the silence…

"Ali?" Imam was alarmed. He turned to the door and ran out. Shazza, Paris, and Fry immediately followed.

Jack made no move until Johns grabbed her shoulder, "Come on." She glanced back to see Riddick calmly moving to the table….

The group nearly tripped over itself in haste to get to the Coring Room door. They faced the same problem that Riddick had when he tried the door. It was chained shut from the inside. Johns ordered everyone back and solved the problem with a couple of shotgun blasts. The doors swung open with a creak like they had been installed wrong and the tendency was for them to be open. The merc, holy man, and docking pilot pressed to the front with Paris, Shazza, and Jackie just behind. Although Johns made her follow the others to the coring room, Fry held her back, placing an arm out and saying "Jack, wait. Wait," after Johns had blown the chain off the door.

Jackie was stunned by a sensation that nearly blindsided her as Imam slipped inside and began exploring the dark dusty room for his missing pilgrim. Alarm bells were going off in her head and she was not aware that she was trying to push past the docking pilot's arm. Her mind filled with screeching urgency to warn the holy man that it was not safe in the shadows where he was searching. Not that she could actually say anything, but it was like she was possessed or something. Imam was well out of sight when a swarm of bat-like creatures forced everyone back through the door. The inhuman, unearthly sounds the horde made as it whirred past the door that Johns pulled shut with a clang implanted themselves in Jackie's soul. He pushed the door back open and stepped through, his shotgun out and ready as the black mass flowed down the drill-shaft. "Imam?" he called loudly.

Fry was behind him, "Imam?" she called out softer, more fearfully. Neither Shazza nor Paris was set on entering the room. Hassan and Suleiman were just as worried about their little brother as Imam and couldn't get in past them. The four of them pressing at the doors forced the teen back even farther. She glanced up at Riddick as he finally joined them, deliberately not putting his neck on the line. Something about his arrival calmed her although she feared the worse. Seconds reached out into years as they waited for some sign from the two company cogs as to if the holy man was still alive in there. Jackie realized that she was not breathing as her ears picked up sounds that Imam was okay. Relief flooded over her at that tiny bit of hope. Could it be that Ali was still alive too? She clung to that thought until Imam let out a dismayed groan. He had found Ali.

Shazza turned and reached to guide Jack away but found Riddick already doing it. The two adults reached a silent understanding over the child's head. There was something very deadly living on this planet. Something worse than Riddick. Jack looked up at Shazza's expression. A million words that could never be spoken flashed across from her to Riddick, a book's worth of a lifetime spent in loving company and gentle ways. Jack looked at Riddick. His face was still impassive, as unmoving as stone. He did not understand what Shazza was trying to say. He had never conversed in such emotions, and all Jack could guess was that her 'oh, my god, I'm so sorry…you did not kill Zeke' was being met with his 'told you so,' but going nowhere.

Off to the side, Paris gagged as Imam moved Ali's tattered body more into view. Hassan and Suleiman pushed forward, rushing through the newly opened gap, and fell to their knees in grief. Fry backed out, her eyes welling up with tears. But Johns merely swung his shotgun up onto his shoulder as looked over the half-eaten remains with professional detachment. Shazza left Jack to Riddick and moved off to find a sheet to cover Ali's body with, her jaw tightening as she did so. Jack found herself being steered the direction Fry was going. Riddick easily caught them up to the docking pilot, as she was not moving quickly. Jack voiced what had to be both of their concern, "Fry, are you okay?" She got a nod and a sniffle in return. Jack reached out and took the blond woman's hand. It seemed like she needed it.

"Ali was your friend, Jack. How are you?" She finally asked.

"In shock. We didn't know each other that well, but yeah, he was my friend." Jack told the truth. She was too numb to cry. 'Why had Ali gone inside that locked room? Neither of us knew what was in there. So, why? It was such a stupid thing to do,' she thought. Riddick guided them both back inside the common room. He filled a glass with water and gave it to Fry. The three of them sat until Shazza re-entered the room looking drawn. Jack looked at her; "Do I even want to know?" She shook her head. The grief was creeping back into her eyes. There would be another funeral, but she'd never have one for Zeke. The four of them sat in silence; each buried in their own thoughts. Jack was thinking that getting out of this alive was gonna be a challenge if the native creatures could kill so fast. It had only taken minutes from the time that they'd heard Ali scream. What if those things were in the rafters of other buildings? And Zeke had been killed just as quickly…

She suddenly felt cold inside. Cold like a shaft of ice was filling the insides of her chest, running down into the root of her spine. She shivered and looked at Fry who was staring into the goblet of half-drunk water, seemingly mesmerized by the colors in the cut crystal. It stamped a melancholy picture that did not ease Jack's internal chill. She looked at Shazza who was staring straight-ahead, not quite crying, not quite dry-eyed, blinking every now and then. Her expression was blank, like she was a hollow shell; she was shattered in the inside and open for the world to see. That did not ease the chill either. Jack looked at Riddick. He was leaning back into the shadows, his goggles up, watching her with his exotic eyes. He was the only one in the room who did not seem lost in his own world. And he was ignoring the two women, leaving them to their thoughts. Jackie wanted to move over to him. To lean in and absorb some of his heat, his confidence. It was like he knew what she was feeling and daring her to act on it. Instead of moving, Jackie caught his eyes with her own and let herself be comforted by the simple fact that he was watching her. Slowly the chill began to recede.

Ultimately, Paris burst into the room. It startled both the docking pilot and the bushwhacker out of whatever worlds they'd slipped into. He crossed between Jack and Riddick unaware that the large man was even in the room. Even as Jack's eyes followed Paris, the ex-ranger stayed statue-still. The antique dealer threw himself into a seat, "My God! That poor boy. He did not deserve that fate," Paris looked at the troublesome youth, "Unlike you." Shazza and Fry shot him looks that were equally brusque.

Jack leapt up; her face twisted in sudden anger and pain, and she stomped out of the room. As the door swung shut Riddick shifted his weight making his seat creak, drawing Paris' attention to the fact that he was in the room. "Now, what did you go and do that for?" Riddick asked him very softly as he moved to follow the child out into the ghost town. The killer paused at the door to put his goggles on. The pale-complexioned fellow swallowed hard.

Someone opened the door and followed her out. Jackie did not slow. She did not look. If it was Paris trying to make amends he could suck up his own shit through a straw. 'How dare he even think to know what was deserved or not?' Hot tears welled up in Jackie's eyes as she broke into a sprint for the building across the complex. Ali had been her friend. It was like a curse. It was worse than the abuse, the care taking of the siblings, and the endless stream of men visiting her mother during the day…. It was worse than the threats...

Johns whistled behind her. 'Riddick must have followed me, but why?' In her state of anger and grief, self-pity and fear, she could hear only the two men's voices, not what was being said. Had she been in any other state-of-mind, she might have been glad that Riddick was behind her. She hit the door ahead in a full sprint, knowing it was unlocked. Then she collapsed into a heap on the dusty floor. Her tears were not for Ali, but Audrey…. The little girl who ran away, who was fading fast into a memory. The years of being the eldest child taking care of other children flooded over her. The fear that she, too, would end up washed up before her time, tired and broken, -- wasted – shook her to her core. Jackie had to purge Audrey. Audrey was weak. She couldn't hack it out here. She was a nice girl, and nice girls got hurt…hurt bad. A fresh round of sobs shook her as she tried to curl into a fetal position on the dirty floor. She tucked her head down by her knees; she had to stifle the noise.

Then she was surrounded by a familiar warm scent. She had not even heard the door open. Strong, bare, muscular arms scooped her up and carried her over to one of the four cots in the room. She shifted only slightly. Jackie was faintly aware of the cot creaking with the weight being settled on it. Her brain recognized the smell only because her mind was too foggy to get in the way. He didn't say anything. He didn't grope. He didn't squeeze. He just sat there, cradling her. Just as he had cradled her before when she was helpless against the face of the world. Back when she was too young to know that the miners were trying to kill her.

Once again she needed him. Even though he feared his own darkness and its intention toward her, Jackie's need overrode his human desire to keep her at a distance. The primitive side of his soul welled up, feeding on her scent, understanding finally that this one precious thing had been hurt beyond her ability to cope. Something inside the darkness began to shift, to change. Something about her need drove deep into the pit that the beast lived in. It ranted and raved about her pain, going though all the stages of grief as it realized that her innocence had been ripped violently away. Yet once it accepted the bundle in his arms was damaged, once it understood that she _needed_, it became docile and protective. Riddick found his human and animal sides reaching an accord over this one tiny soul. Never had he done that before. His heart ached as the duality merged internally into one creature with one driving thought. Through it all the woman-child in his arms sobbed, unaware of the changes her presence sparked, too focused on her own transformation to notice.

Within the protective cocoon made by Jackie's perception, or lack of it, an internal change took place. Fostered by the reassuring scent, the firm but loose encircling arms, and the self-assured aura radiating off of the man holding her, the damaged, scarred, abused Audrey was able to finish passing into peaceful nothingness. Audrey's forging came from a damaged mold and her character shattered under the new unfamiliar pressures of life in space. Jackie shed whatever shards of her old self that still remained. She took over the skills learned, but assigned the emotions, feelings, and fears to someone now dead. She resolved to learn what she could from this experience, to survive, to emerge re-forged from the fire of this triple sun world with a new razor-sharp edge.

Her internal alterations might have been in response to a different need, not one fully her own, for outside of the pair, frozen in time, watching was another power. It was difficult to awaken the primitive side in the young woman, difficult not because she resisted but because her blood was not pure. The otherworldly power hovered, watching. The fate of existence boiled down to this. It reached into the heart of the damaged half-breed and transfused her with fire, unsure if it would take but desperate to reach the true individual of destiny. If he would not listen then perhaps she would. The unearthly form kneeled in front of the pair, unseen. It focused first on the male of the pair, 'Such darkness dwells behind those luminous eyes. So much pain and anger, yet you won't hear me. Why?' There was no answer forthcoming from his unmoving form. It turned its attention to the child, hurt and shattered, in the man's lap. 'Time for you to assist me. Time for you to become a woman,' It reached into the soul before it, finding that she was already mending, molding herself into a form inspired by the male holding her. The other was pleased. It found the female's primitive side and rooted there. Time was needed to ignite the flame that already burned within the man's veins inside the half-breed female. Given other options it would not have bothered, but there were none.

Unaware of the third party interference, Jackie picked Riddick as her new mold. He lent himself to the task by virtue of being there. He helped salvage her earliest memories and made it possible for her to own those as a tiny treasure. The rest became empty pictures, training films, not part of her life. The constructed parts of her that had been the boy, Jack, flowed away too. Jackie took what worked from the male persona but acknowledged the fact that she was a girl and would always be a girl. If Shazza could be a free settler, and Fry a pilot, why couldn't she be. Suddenly her mother was not the only female role model she had. Both women were tough as nails and sharp as tacks. Jackie could be like that too.

Although it seemed to take a lifetime for the change to happen when everything goes at the speed of thought a lifetime passes in moments. For this task, several lifetimes were needed. Even after Jackie quieted the internal changes continued. Somehow the hints of her own duality displayed earlier was both becoming stronger and accepting what she was. Perhaps the animal inside her sensed that it was needed, perhaps it responded to the scent surrounding her, or perhaps it was the influence of the unknown other channeling into it, giving it strength and allowing it to grow much as love and attention often made the runt of the litter the most powerful survivor… Eventually the primitive being merged its strength with the remaining bits of personality becoming something new. It accepted the name 'Jack' or 'Jackie' as a matter of survival. Peace flowed out from her as the process completed itself. 

For a while she was just part of that statue. Solid and strong. Riddick made no move as she stirred. Jackie slowly looked up at him. His goggles were off; his eyes closed, breathing even. He might have been asleep. Except for the tiny motion of his hand slowly circling gently on her back. The touch was so light that Jackie was not bothered by it. Her shift of weight caused him to stop, but his hand stayed on her back. She was aware that perhaps in the silence he was listening to what was happening outside. She followed suit, copying him. Making her own breathing soft and steady. She willed her heart to beat in the slow cadence of his, finding that she had to close her eyes to focus attention on it. She did not see Riddick smile slightly as he felt her doing exactly what he wanted her to do….

The meditation was only the first lesson. Her mind visited places of darkness and light. Of forest and desert. Places above ground and below. And in the darkness below hunger waited with growing impatience. It drove her back into the light. The light was safe. She stayed in the sky, watching the twin stars trace a path across it. Familiar twin stars… She became aware that she had been watching the sky change, as she came out of it. Not any sky, but the sky here. 'Impossible,' she thought. Riddick let her go as she pulled herself up and got to her feet. He was sure she had settled down. Jackie walked over to a shuttered window and cracked it just enough to discover that what she'd seen was very close to how the sky really looked. The shade of the sky told her that the blue sun would be rising soon. Riddick walked up behind her, quiet as a cat. "They will be saying goodbye to Ali soon. You should go," it was not an order, but a strong suggestion. Jackie nodded. She should go. Ali had been Jack's friend. Least she could do was say goodbye. "There are some things I want to teach you, Jack. Important things," Riddick spoke softly but with intensity. Jackie nodded again. She'd take whatever schooling Riddick wanted to give her. All the better to survive out here and for survival she could find no better teacher.

Jackie went into the toilet and got a moist wipe for her face. She cleaned away the spent and dried tears along with sticky sweat. She wiped her head and neck too. She was surprised that Johns had left them alone considering how he'd ordered her away from Riddick half a day before. Then again, she did not know how sneaky Riddick might have been in coming back to this room. And Johns had his own problem, Lady Morphine, to worry about. Jackie saw a flash of her mother getting a fix. Yeah, that was likely what Johns had been up to anyhow. She looked at herself in the dusty mirror. Who was she now? Where did she belong? What could she become? The possibilities were open before her, just as long as she survived this world and its catharsis.

Riddick stood near the window. The others were beginning to move about now that the suns were nearing the horizons. He was unmoving. Watching. Something was different about her, he noted. She moved with a grace she hadn't possessed before. She seemed somehow older, yet… He tore his attention off of her and back to the people outside. He'd keep her here with him if he could stop time, but he couldn't. The clock was ticking on something, and his gut told him they were running out of time very quickly. He had to focus on survival. Had to keep Johns in the dark as long as possible, just to get enough time to convince the others that the merc was the danger. Had to protect her…

She walked out of the washroom. He gave her a curt nod. She understood, 'go first.' Jackie looked at him for moment longer. His face was sheltered, his feelings hidden behind a wall she couldn't see through. His posture was just as closed to her. It was like he was closing back up, pushing her away. She didn't understand why, but somehow it was important to keep playing the boy. She nodded back, pulling out her male persona again and slipping it on like a shield before exiting out into the azure dawn. Riddick watched the change somewhat amazed as the woman he perceived transformed back into a pre-teen boy. He blinked at her back, losing his own shielding for a moment. He wondered what other surprises Jackie had up her sleeve.

Jack emerged from the building feeling refreshed and energized. Her main goal was to say goodbye to Ali, and to that end she looked for the passage on Imam, Hassan, and Suleiman. The three were headed out to the edge of the settlement slowly escorting Ali to a prepared cairn. She fell in behind them. They laid the body inside a shallow depression and began to cover it with rocks. Jackie watched for a moment, then Suleiman handed her a rock and spoke in Arabic. He pointed. She gave him a sad look that indicated she understood and proceeded to help them cover Ali's body. As Imam began to recite prayers for Ali, Paris quietly joined the small gathering. Jackie hardened her face and ignored him. She tried to center her attention on Ali. Paris was not important now. Shazza was right, he was not worth it. Ali had been her friend and now he was gone. The universe would be a darker place without him.

Riddick waited for Jackie to leave. His mind hummed with another familiar sensation, one he grimly brushed aside. He'd been plagued with visions and portent-like dreams most of his life and they had never been pleasant. Usually he could force them away, keep them from coming on. Right now he could care less about the 'destiny' line of it, and he didn't want to know who would die next. That he was having this feeling was indication that he'd make it. So enough of the Universal 'karma' shit. He put his goggles on and walked out the door just in time to see Johns and Shazza heading over to the Coring Room. After noting everyone's location but Fry's, he followed the pair across the compound.

The docking pilot was scouting through the various mining and geological bits of data carefully arranged around the room. If she remembered her history right, the era that this settlement was built was one of rapid expansion and unusually quick profits. A boom era. By the looks of the equipment and belongings still sitting around she guessed that this expedition had been well funded. The samples she'd looked at so far indicated that the company was interested in something deep down here, far below the surface. Most of the core samples were nearly 30 years old but they were arranged in sequence still like whoever was working on them was planning on walking back in at any moment to finish up. Johns and Shazza coming into the room interrupted her. The dark-haired woman said, "They are saying goodbye to Ali…"

The merc interjected, "And they better not be digging another damn grave." Fry watched Shazza give Johns a look that was like green shards of glass. What was it that the bushwhacker knew about him that she wasn't telling?

Carolyn switched from the woman to the blue-eyed man, "No, Johns. They went with a stone cairn. No digging required." Her focus changed again as Riddick walked in. "So, you think the geologists are here somewhere?"

Although he was slightly surprised by the calm and accepting tone in the docking pilot's voice, he didn't show it. The ex-ranger spared her a glance and then looked over at the drill, "Did anyone look down the core shaft?" Riddick walked to the lower level and kneeled down, lifting his goggles. He could the remains just fine. Johns raised an eyebrow and took one percussion flare off his belt. Riddick heard him pop it against his hip and closed his eyes as the hissing green cylinder of light fell down the shaft. The two women behind him seemed equally disturbed by the sight of the picked-clean human bones at the bottom. "Other buildings weren't secure. So they ran here. Heaviest doors. But they forgot to lock the cellar…"

Shazza felt sick. She pulled back away from the sight wrapped up in how wrong she'd been. How could she reach out and make amends? Her last attempt had gotten nowhere. If there was one person left alive that she trusted it would be Jack, and Jack had defended Riddick from the start. Now she wished she had listened sooner, "So that's what happened to my Zeke…" she whispered. Riddick straightened up and began to exit out of the room when she finally added, "And you were there. You saw the entire thing. Trying to kill 'em too?" Not accusing, just asking, softly…

"No, just after his oxygen." The deep voice rumbled from the other side of the drill-shaft. Shazza watched his face. Hints of grief flickered across it. 'So he did care.' She mentally noted. 'Maybe he was trying to rescue Zeke…' Shame welled up inside her threatening to cave in what remained of her shattered shell. She had to do something to make it right.

Johns scowled, "Right."

"Shut up, Johns. I'm not gonna tow your line with you anymore," Shazza stated softly. She walked around the room so that she was besides Riddick, no longer seeing him as a threat, but as a person horribly misjudged. She didn't know why he'd become a killer, or how he ended up in Johns' custody, but none of it mattered. She recognized a kindred soul, struggling to survive in a harsh, uncaring universe. "Here." She handed Riddick her breather. He felt her literally grab his hand and put the device in it, closing his fingers around the cable.

"What? It's broken?" Riddick really didn't know how to take this. Jack accepting him was one thing, but Shazza was a free-lance bounty hunter herself. For her to be turning against Johns was totally out of any expectation Riddick had of her. His first reaction was to toss the offering down to the ground and stare at the green-eyed woman in defiance.

"No, there's a few hits left." Shazza kicked the breather toward the stubborn tanned man in a refusal to pick it back up herself. They stared at each other for a long uncomfortable moment. Finally she realized that she had to resort to plain harsh language, "Actually, you asshole, I'm trying to say that I'm sorry." Behind the goggles Riddick blinked and his face softened.

Johns didn't like this development, not one bit. Riddick's sudden promotion to air-breathing human was bad in itself, that the remaining bushwhacker had done the promoting was a near disaster. He could feel his hold over Riddick slipping fast, "Alright, let's board this up and get the hell gone. Those fuckers seem to stick to darkness, so if we stick to daylight -- "

"Twenty-two years ago…" The docking pilot had gone back to her earlier search and was now at the end of the final existing core sample. She was holding a date card.

"What?" Johns looked at Fry like she was out in left field somewhere.

"These coring samples are dated. And this last one, if Owens' chrono was right, would be twenty-two years ago this month."

Johns was still lost, but the drama was enough to get both Shazza and Riddick to stay. "Something special about that Carolyn?"

"There might be…" The blonde looked at the date on the card again and headed for the door.

As the last of the prayers were given, the last of the tears shed, Jackie had her attention drawn to Fry quickly crossing the compound, trailed by Johns and Shazza. Riddick stopped and motioned for her to follow. Paris also noticed and stood up. The sudden movement drew Imam and the pilgrims along behind the bunch. By the time Jack reached the room, Riddick had entered. Fry was working a mock-up of the solar system they were now in at a faster pace then the machine was meant to go. It clicked over to 20 as Paris walked in, and 21 as Imam did. Fry paused. She looked at everyone before pushing the model over to 22. The entire system lined up. All the suns and all the planets, in a single line, with the one planet they were on in the middle. In the dark. Fry, Shazza, and Johns looked at each other. Jack looked at Riddick, 'What the hell?' she thought. But deep inside, she already knew. Down below, in the darkness, hunger waited… Her heart began doing flip-flops in her chest.

Fry moved the model over to 23, and the planets stayed in position. She swung it back to 22, trying her best not to stand there like a fool with her mouth hanging open. 'Okay don't panic, try this by date…' She cleared her throat, "Imam, can you help me here? Anyone have a working universal chrono?"

Paris was the one who spoke, "I do. Here." He took the tool off his wrist and walked over to the Orrery. "So what is going on? This is set on a 22 year cycle?" He asked about the mock-up.

"It appears so." Imam answered as he helped get the device's inner workings set by date not by cycle. Fry picked a date at random between that of the dated sample and the one indicated on Paris' watch. Imam re-engaged the internal gears and the model swung the planetary system into the correct position. They began rushing time forward again, closer and closer to the current year… and when they reached it Imam began counting backwards to the month… as he reached zero the model once again lined up like clockwork. The holy man glanced around at the stunned faces.

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" Riddick's voice cut into the smothering silence. It shook everyone back to the moment. Jackie was shaking so hard she couldn't believe that no one was aware of her knees knocking together.

But the docking pilot wasn't letting them give up, not now. She suddenly realized that if they were gonna survive she had to start being the captain everyone thought she was. Determination pushed back her own fear. Fry looked at Riddick; "Did you find anything to patch the wings with?" Riddick shook his head, and Fry turned to Shazza, "The Sand-Cat? Is it--"

"I'm on it…." Shazza flew out the door.

"Okay. We gotta think." Fry paced the darkened room. Then a light bulb went off in her head, "Imam, there is a roll of Vectran in the crash ship, the stuff we wrapped the bodies in. There should be enough to patch the wings left. Why don't you, Hassan and Suleiman go get it?"

"We can do that." Imam and the boys disappeared.

"Jack?" Fry turned her attention to the boy. Jack nodded. "There are some water bladders in the common room, get those filled and ready to load, okay?" She looked at Riddick and Johns, then said to Riddick, "Help Jack, please?" Johns scowled; Fry ignored him. "Paris, gather food and medical supplies, all you can find." He nodded. She moved to the door and rushed out, heading back to the skiff. "Johns--!" The merc followed her after casting one last disapproving stare Riddick's direction. Fry's voice drifted back to Jack and Riddick, "…. Need those power-cells from the crash ship right away, finish switching over the electrical, do the run-up on the main engines…. Shit—still gotta check the hull--"

Johns said something softly, his voice carrying but the words lost.

"Just get the fucking cells here Johns! What? What's the discussion?" Anger overflowed from Fry's voice.

"Let's get the water," Riddick said softly, drawing Jackie back to their assigned task. She looked at him and moved out into the brightening blue-sun day. It hit her that Riddick had a breather. Shazza did not. She must have found a way to apologize that Riddick understood. Jackie smiled to herself. Johns was losing his stranglehold over how the others perceived Riddick after all. They reached the common room as the three Muslims were stepping out. Riddick nodded at Imam as they passed, rushing to complete a task that would take he and Jackie several hours to finish. Imam's group would be gone longer than that, though. The material they were after was heavy. It would take all three of them just to muscle the roll back to the skiff. Jackie knew that Vectran was used to construct emergency shelters too. It was tough, durable, and nearly indispensable on Sigma 3. Much of the worker housing was patched of the space-age stuff.

They gathered the bladders and moved off to fill them. Riddick left Jackie to the filling, wandering off with concentrated intent. Jackie didn't mind; only on of them could actually fill the bladders anyway. After a quarter of an hour Riddick reappeared, picked up the filled water bags, and moved them off to the best spot for easy loading. Johns had left Fry alone with her work. She merely glanced at the sound of the water sloshing and saw Riddick going back around the corner for more. Jackie looked up at him as he came back and crouched down next to her. Neither of them said anything. He put a hand on her shoulder and walked off again. Over the next three hours Jackie filled, and every 15 minutes or so Riddick came and collected the load of bags and moved them. About two hours in Johns emerged from somewhere and began loading the filled bladders into the skiff. Survival in space, waiting for another ship to find them, depended on them having water and protein tablets. Especially as the skiff lacked Cryo-technology.

Riddick moved to pick up the last of the bladders. Jackie found him looking at her. She raised an eyebrow as he whispered, "Meet me," and gestured with his head off toward the room that she had gone into the day before. "With your pack," he added. Jackie nodded. She slipped into the common room from the back door as Riddick went around the outside with his load.


	8. Darkness Falls

Darkness Falls

Jack heard Johns say, "Here. I'll take that," as she walked away from her finished task. It seemed that the merc was still trying to keep Riddick out of the skiff. There was a plastic sounding slosh. She smirked. Riddick must have just dropped the entire load on Johns, as the other man grunted with effort. Jackie suppressed a giggle at the mental image, snagged her pack, and dodged back out into the bright blue light. She hurried back to the building Riddick indicated. When she reached it she found a pile of assorted tools, files, pliers, and cutters piled in the middle of the darkened room. Among the tools were several different sizes of metal bars, all just over knife length. Jackie cocked her head and set the pack down. What was Riddick up to? He had gathered this stuff together over using the prefab knives in the common room. Maybe he thought they were to flimsy. One of the bars was already roughly shaped into a graceful sweeping design like a flame point.

She settled down near the tools and looked over the other bars. They were of different thickness. Several looked like they'd be comfortable for her to hold but far to narrow for Riddick's big hands. She looked at the shiv Riddick had begun to make. There was no doubt that it was a shiv. The bar was definitely a thicker one. The right size for him to use easily. Riddick quietly slipped inside the room. Lesson two was at hand. He wanted to see how fast Jackie would pick up what he knew was a lifesaving skill, making shivs.

Riddick figured he could make two blades in the time it would take her to make one, so he started with a fresh blank. He guided her through the process of using the cutter to shape the blade and the file to sharpen it. He told her how and why he'd selected these pieces of metal. As the blue sun moved to it's setting point he finished his second shiv and told her to put any tools she was not using into her pack. Riddick then checked her progress and told her when she could shave the hairs from her arm with her blade it was finished. Jackie heard the Muslims returning by their singing. Riddick left. Jackie kept working. Once her personal shiv was carefully tested to Riddick's requirements Jackie gathered up the tools, the remaining blanks, and whatever bits of metal were left over and figured out how to stash the new items in her already full pack. She removed some of the sanitary items and stuffed her cargo pockets with them. That made just enough room. She slipped her new weapon into her boot cautiously to avoid cutting her sock. It felt weird having the cold metal next to her leg. Maybe she could get a scrap of Vectran.

She exited the room and scouted out the settlement, only to have Shazza call her over, "Jack, love, can you hand me that big wrench?" Jackie moved over to the sand-cat and began helping Shazza with the repairs. Riddick was next to the skiff using his newly made shiv to cut sections of Vectran off the bolt for the wings. Imam was doing the actual patching and the two boys were helping. Hassan was up top, Suleiman down below. Each was doing a double job of passing and holding, while one man cut and the other stitched. Neither Johns nor Paris seemed to be working. Jackie looked around for them. Paris emerged from one of the buildings with a small crate of carefully packed items. He walked past the sweating workers into to skiff. Fry's voice indicated that she was getting tired of his attempts to salvage his profits, "What is that? We don't have room for anything extra."

"Food tins, freeze-dried emergency rations, a few bottles of liquor, and some jewelry," Paris said. "The box will fit under the chairs." And likely a few of the smaller statues too, Jackie silently added.

"Okay, Paris…But remember, food and medical supplies only. See what else you can find." Paris exited the skiff with a new mission. He'd pretty much gotten permission to pack his caviar, crackers, toast points, and canned meats along with whatever other food items he could scrounge up from the main kitchen.

Suleiman finally indicated that they had enough Vectran to finish the wings. Riddick picked up the much smaller bolt of cloth and carried it inside so that it was out of the way. Suleiman called up to Imam and Hassan before walking off Paris' direction, perhaps to assist the art dealer with his task. Hassan tugged the last part of the wing material tight and scanned the horizon for any sign of something unusual. 'So far, so good,' thought Jackie as she scanned the horizon too. The twin suns was inching down, and the blue climbing opposite them. Shazza continued to work on the sand-cat like a single-woman pit crew in a fast moving race….

Imam and Hassan finished with the patchwork and clamored to the ground. The holy man looked pleased with the job. He and Hassan stood for a moment congratulating each other before moving into the common room for some well-deserved water. Fry shortly emerged from the skiff. She had finished the electrical conversion. She moved over to check on Shazza's progress with the sand-cat. She had to work through a maze of parts Shazza had removed to clean. Shazza saw Fry coming, "Would you please hand me that part, there?" She pointed, and Fry picked it up with a questioning look. "Yeah," Shazza confirmed.

Fry licked her lips, carried the part over, and handed it to Shazza, "How long?"

"Another couple of hours, maybe."

Johns rounded the corner, "Carolyn, I think I should tell you something." He walked over to the skiff.

Fry looked at Jackie with a quizzical expression before turning to follow Johns back the way she'd come. No sooner had the two of them disappeared inside the skiff did Riddick materialize outside of it. He set down a can and began to slather his head with grease. He took his time. Waiting. Johns emerged from the skiff just as Riddick was beginning the second stroke of his shaving job. With his new shiv. Advertising the fact. Jackie half watched the situation play out as she assisted Shazza put the sand-cat back together. She could tell that Johns was gripped in the first stages of withdrawal. Riddick deliberately scraped the goo off the shiv and said, "Bad sign. Shaking like that in this heat."

"I thought I said no shi--," Johns retched and leaned against the side of the skiff, catching himself with one arm, "shivs."

"This?" Riddick seemed to enjoy mocking Johns; "This is just a personal grooming appliance." He had not even stopped shaving or scraping as he spoke.

Johns caught himself and gave Riddick a cold hard look. He moved off the way he'd originally approached. Riddick finished what he was doing and wiped the film off with a rag before standing up and moving quietly inside the skiff. Jackie heard the skiff's hatch close. 'Fry must be doing that Hull check she was so worried about,' Jackie thought. She wanted to know what was happening inside that skiff, but Shazza kept her busy fetching parts as the sand-cat came back to life.

"You are quite a fast learner, Jack," Shazza commented as the youth noticed that the solar unit still needed to be re-attached.

"So what voltage does this use?" It seemed like a good thing to know, so Jackie asked.

"Says right there, love. See?" The bushwhacker pointed. "And I think you could tighten those connections while you are looking, okay?" Jack gave Shazza a grin and picked up a screwdriver. Shouldn't be hard to make sure that the wires were wrapped around and the connections were screwed down.

Finally the hatch opened with a whir and a hiss. Jackie could hear Riddick saying, "Ever wonder why Johns shakes like that? Ask him. And ask why your crew-pal had to scream so painfully before he died." Riddick then walked out into the daylight, scanning the sky after clearing the Skiff's edge. He saw nothing unusual, yet. He came over to the sand-cat and helped for several hours with putting everything back together, finishing with assisting Shazza replace the toolbox. As he walked away he drew Jackie off with him. Shazza ignored the pair. She wandered into the communal room for some water, joining the pilgrims in the relative coolness inside.

Jackie felt like this was the calm before the storm, and soon, real soon, all hell was apt to break loose. And there was something about Riddick's attitude that told her he sensed it too. It was like he could see the clock ticking but was not going to make a fuss about it. Their path took them past where Johns was camped out. Jackie spotted something interesting, a silver-cased guild linkup. Damn. She'd always wanted to get her hands on one of those. She wondered if Johns would bother to stash it on the skiff or if he was too wrapped up in his morphine haze to care. An idea began to form in her mind. If she could only get the data she needed and her hands on that computer in there….

Quarter day to the blue sundown. Carolyn Fry had sat stunned inside the skiff working over what Riddick had said to her. Thinking about Johns and his ever-present shotgun, blue eyes flashing like a psycho, gun trained on her chest… She watched blankly as Shazza, Riddick and Jack rebuilt the sandcat, working together in perfect harmony until the job was done. But the boy's light, graceful hop to the ground and the man's muscular arm circling around slim shoulders snapped her out of her numbness. There was something about the two of them that struck her as, well… odd. Riddick seemed more relaxed, friendly even, around the boy. And Jack… Well, she didn't quite know what to make of Jack's reaction to the convict. She'd thought there was a touch of hero worship there, but now it looked more like… No, better to not jump to conclusions. So what did she still need to do? Right, the rest of the preflight stuff. Might as well fix the comms. It gave her another excuse to not get her head shot off… But she couldn't shake Riddick's words, no matter how hard she tried… '_Don't truly know what's going to happen when the lights go out, but I _do_ know once the dying starts, this psycho-fuck family of ours in gonna rip itself apart. So you better find out__ the truth. When it all goes pitch-black you better know exactly who's standing behind you_.'

Paris found himself working with one of the pilgrims. Packing as much into tiny boxes as possible, he attempted to slip in what he could. The two of them loaded several crates into the skiff while the docking pilot was working with one of the systems up front. Finally he suggested that they load up some blankets just in case they had to conserve power. Fry sat up and looked at him. He also suggested loading up any extra oxygen tanks. Although the work more or less kept the conversation short eventually Carolyn agreed with him and he set off to gather as many extra items as he could get her to approve of. The search led him to discover that many of the buildings had scattered supplies that would be more than useful. He packed those too.

Riddick drew Jackie back inside one of the rooms where Paris had already searched. He put his hands on her shoulders, his manner careful. "Jack, I don't know what is going to happen when the lights go out…" Truthfully, he didn't know, he couldn't. He desperately wanted her to survive this. He was terrified that she wouldn't. His fear made him repeat himself in a way, saying nearly the same thing he'd said to Fry in the skiff. "Not all of us are going to make it," he whispered as he crouched down to her level.

Calm washed over her. She reached over and put a hand on his freshly shaved head. "No. Not all of us," she knew already. Riddick turned his head to follow her arm, lifting his face and taking in the smell off her wrist. Jackie watched him and blinked. "Riddick, what do you think they target prey by? I mean, they live in the dark right? So it's not sight…" 

"Smell."

"Then I should wash. We all should. Will you help me with something?" She moved away from him closing the slats on the window and dropping her pack in the stripped cot. He watched her for a time unmoving, until after the room was dark. He looked at the floor, raised his goggles so he could see and looked back to spot her lifting off her shirts one layer at a time. What was she aiming to do? Her scent became stronger as the layers came off. His nose detected the copperish tinge to it. 'Shit, she's bleeding,' he thought, panic welling up inside him. He'd almost forgotten… there was no denying it though. And the native life clearly knew human blood. Jackie looked back over his shoulder at the large man's face. "Yeah, okay. Not just smell. Blood, right? They went for Zeke because he had blood on him from the close gunshots. All the more reason I need your help, Riddick." He wanted to curl up into a ball and forget the entire situation. He'd never been this close to giving up before. He'd never had her asking him for help before. The beast internally beat Richard up and took over. He gracefully stood up and moved over to her. She was wearing a thin tank top now. He stopped as she peeled the sweat-soaked shirt off to reveal that she was tightly wrapped in compression bandages. She felt his hands helping to get them off. "Thanks." He merely grunted. Clearly her run from Sigma 3 had not been mostly in cryo. He mentally re-figured her age, adding a year.

She wiped herself down with a wet-wipe, and had him wipe down what she couldn't reach. Then she pulled out a fresh roll of compression bandages and had him wrap her tightly back up. He knew this was survival, she had to trust him. He stayed behind her, keeping his eyes fixed on her back, focused on the scars from her being beaten by something harshly enough to break the skin in parallel stripes about a nightstick in width. His hand froze. He lightly touched one of the sets. Another promise broken. Jackie turned her head to look back at his face surprised at the touch and shocked at the anger she saw etched in his face. "Yeah, he beat me pretty bad when he found out my mom was hiding the fact she was preggers to keep him from pimping me out…" 

"I'll kill him."

"Not if we don't survive this you won't." That pulled him back to the moment. He began wrapping her chest again. Once that was finished Jackie put a clean undershirt on and replaced her layered tops before moving into the bathroom. She cleaned herself the rest of the way, going so far at to use something to keep the smell from being overly evident to her own nose. The feeling of something inside her made her feel sick. She gulped air to force the nausea back.

"How do you women get those out?"

Jackie jumped, dropping the blood-streaked plastic tube on the floor, "Fuck, Riddick! What are you doing?" He was standing in the doorway watching her. She hadn't heard him walk up. She hadn't heard him open the damn door. Luckily the shirts were long enough that her ass wasn't showing. She tugged the shirt lower. He ignored the fact that her pants were down around her ankle and that she had one foot up on the edge of the toilet. He ignored her question and her embarrassment, walking in the rest of the way to pick up what she dropped.

"Well?"

"There's a god-damn string, okay?" He reached past her to drop the cylinder into the chemicals filling the waste basin. Jackie felt nervous with him so close. Nervous and confused. He made her tingle. "Um, I don't think you should be in here." She felt him close behind her then blinked as he handed her a wet-wipe.

"I can still smell blood on you." His voice was rather business like. Jackie screwed up her face and took the wipe. She waited for a minute for him to back off, and sighed when he didn't. She swallowed and began carefully cleaning, 'Damn him. He's going to stand there and watch me.' Riddick was more interested in what his nose caught than what he could see, though. He handed her fresh wipes until he could no longer smell blood. "Okay, you're clean, Jack." He then started out the door.

"Don't think you are just walking out, buster!" Jackie threw on her pants and caught up with him, "I should clean and reseal those scrapes." He stopped. She was right, he knew she was. He nodded and sat down on the cot next to her pack and calmly stayed still though her ministrations. Actually, it was enjoyable to have her wash his face, head, neck and shoulders. He even let her wash his arms and hands. Jackie studied the faint scar that laced its way up his arm. It was an old wound, and looked like it had been stitched up. She focused on his fingers with the wipe, getting the grease out from under his fingernails. It was not until she began applying the sealing salve again that she spoke, "So how did you get that scar on your arm?"

He studied his arm for a time, almost like he couldn't place it, "Trying to escape from someplace I'd never want you to go." He blinked at her as she raised his head to get to the wound on his temple. He could tell she wasn't satisfied with that answer, and really he kind of wanted to tell her more, "I fell down into a buried part of Butcher Bay, someplace I was trying to get to, because I'd caught a rumor that I could get out that way. I must have caught it during the fall. It's an old wound."

"You escaped from Butcher Bay?" Jackie was awed. No one escaped from there. Or at least no one she'd ever heard of.

"I'm sitting here now, ain't I?"

"Yeah…" She laughed, "I guess you are." She finished up with his various scrapes and put the box of wet-wipes back into her pack along with the salve. Riddick watched her put everything away.

Finally he said, "Come on. It's near sunset, and I want to make sure your pack is stashed on the skiff." He stood and walked her back out into the light where they could watch the comings and goings from the small two-seater. The docking pilot was still inside, working on something. Riddick calmly draped his arm over Jack's shoulder and waited. Fry finally exited. The blonde woman's walk told Jackie that the docking pilot had thought over Riddick's last message and was now on her way to find out the truth. Jackie was surprised that someone who had traveled all over the galaxy could overlook the simple fact that Johns was a hype. It was so obvious. She was reflecting on that fact when her eyes registered a change in the light. The blue sun was setting. The twin suns were about one third of the way across the sky But something was different. 'Clouds?' she thought. 'No, I haven't seen a single cloud here, so what the fuck?' It overwhelmed her as she looked at the sky trying to find the source of the dimming. Something gray shimmered on the horizon…. 

She dropped her pack and walked out into the openness next to the sand-cat's 'port. Behind her, Riddick picked up the pack and took it inside the escape ship. Jackie managed to call out one name, "Shazza!" Paris and Suleiman walked out carrying two plastic storage boxes of additional supplies. Neither noticed Jackie staring until they were near the skiff. Suleiman handed his box to Riddick, but Paris just stood, watching the bands of gray and orange shimmer climb into the sky….

He dropped his box. The contents spilled out onto the ground. Suleiman called out. "Imam!" Shazza, Imam, and Hassan burst out into the open, and froze….

Riddick continued to work, picking up the contents of Paris' dropped box quickly and taking it aboard. Imam finally told Hassan to get Fry and the order shook Suleiman awake too. They began to call "Captain, Captain!" punctuated with frantic Arabic. Jackie was only dimly aware of everything; the bands were growing, expanding, and becoming arches of huge size thrusting their way across the sky. Fry stormed out of her confrontation with Johns right into the gates of Hell. She just didn't know what she was facing yet.

Shazza was the first to speak, "If we need anything from the crash I suggest we kick on, that sand-cat's solar!" Her words spurred the assembled group to rush for the vehicle.

They threw themselves into the sand-cat. Jackie noticed that Johns and Riddick were both missing. "Where's Riddick?" she asked.

"Leave him. That's what he'd do to us," Paris replied to her. Seconds later Riddick landed solidly behind him in the moving vehicle. "I'd thought we lost you," Paris hastily added.

"Johns!" Shazza called. 

'Leave, 'em,' Jackie thought just as Johns ran out of a doorway his gear in hand. It looked like he couldn't possibly make it, but Riddick reached out and hauled him up as the sand-cat passed him. Even in the moment of co-operation the challenge between the two played out in their expressions.

Jackie was focused on Riddick as Shazza guided the sand-cat over the first ridge and into the canyon. She had to focus on him to keep the fear away. The visions from her mediation floated back into her mind's eye. 'In the darkness, hunger waited.' Her pulse boomed in her ears. 'Riddick, just focus on Riddick and you will get through this.' She lowered her yellow goggles just as he casually pointed at something behind her. Instinctively she ducked further down and inside the sand-cat's cage. She was showered with bone chips as Shazza raced them through the bone-yard. If nothing else, Shazza knew how to drive. The vehicle speedily swerved around smaller skeletons and through bigger ones. Shazza never slowed, even when she reached the incline up. Several flares bounced out of the open box as the sand-cat climbed up one side and down the other. They sped through the open space all eyes on the crash ship, each person mentally gauging what needed to be done and how much time they had left. As the vehicle screeched to a stop, Riddick told Jackie, "Stay here." He, Imam, and Johns leapt off the cat and raced for the battery bay.

Paris jumped out too. "Where are you going?" Shazza demanded.

"It'll just take a minute. You won't leave without me, will you?" Paris called to her as he ran for the near cargo hold. Shazza gave him a look of annoyance, shook her head and backed the sand-cat up to the ship. Jackie stared at the arch as it reached for the larger of the twin suns – and a black sliver appeared on the horizon. She had a sinking feeling that it was too late. Imam dropped the first of the four cells into the back of the sand-cat. Riddick brought out the second and the third together. Johns added the last one. But the sand-cat was sputtering in the dim light. Jackie grabbed a rag and cleaned off the solar panel in an act of final desperation. Hell had caught up with them.

"Shit," Shazza mumbled as she tried to turn over the engine.

The desert had taken on a ghastly orange twilight. The illumination flickered as the bands of the eclipsing planet's rings slid over the twin stars. Paris had reached the hold, but stood outside of it, transfixed by the shimmering light and the growing black planet looming into view. Something sounding like a brisk wind forcing its way through dense trees reached the teen's ears. Fry, Johns, and Riddick heard it too. They looked toward the pinnacles, which seemed to be the source of the noise. A black cloud was erupting from the area. Jackie's breath caught in her throat. "How many can there be?" Johns asked.

"Beautiful," Riddick whispered, transfixed. His goggles were up. Beautifully deadly, Riddick reminded himself. But at least at the moment the hatchlings were flowing away from them. His senses picked up that ominous buzz again. Try as he might he was rooted to the spot like a doomed man waiting for the final firing squad.

"Allah--" Imam prayed in fear.

"Um, just a suggestion, people. But perhaps you SHOULD FLEE!" Paris screamed. One of the spirals of wispy death seemed to feel his fear, turning toward them at almost the same instant.

'_Run, be like the wind_…' The words, spoken by a woman, familiar but not familiar, cut through the fear in Jack's stomach. '_Run, now_!' It commanded. Jackie found herself in the middle of a mad sprint, not quite sure how she had reached the ground. Her skin vibrated with a horrid hum that her mind instantly translated into a screaming danger sign. She was aware that Fry, Imam, Hassan, Johns, and Suleiman were pounding the ground around her with their own rush to the cargo hold. Hunger was coming and she could barely breathe.

"Shit!" Shazza screamed as she threw herself out of the sand-cat and into a dash. Riddick finally began to run behind her as another of the waves broke free from the cloud and circled their direction. Jackie reached the doorway, surprised that Paris actually hugged her in gratitude that someone else was safe for the moment, and turned to see Shazza and Riddick pushing up the ridge created by the ship's drag-mark. The rest of the party skidded to a halt in the relative safety of the doorway. 

"Get down!" Fry called. Shazza must have heard, because she leaped over the edge and rolled into the middle of the drag scar; Riddick was right behind her, landing less than an arm's length away. Both rolled to a stop just as the first wave passed inches above their heads. Riddick lay still, but Jackie could see all the pressure finally reach breaking point on Shazza. She just finally snapped. Blind panic lead to making one very bad choice. "No, no, no, no," Fry chanted as if it would keep Shazza down.

But it did not. Jackie watched the swarm of what she guessed were hatchlings rise up away from the two forms on the ground as if they had some mass intelligence. It was a trap. It was like they sensed that Shazza was falling apart. They could catch her, if they just gave her enough space to stand up. Jackie could almost feel their evil intent. She shouted a warning to Shazza, "Stay Down!" She looked at the others who were frozen by the sight, "Tell her to stay there," she pleaded with them before turning back to Shazza herself, "Stay down, Shazza! JUST STAY DOWN!" Jackie's movement forward caused Paris to grab her, wrapping an arm across her upper torso to hold her back. Riddick reached out to grab Shazza's foot, to calm her, to bring her back from the brink of her terror and missed it by a few inches. He closed his eyes as his hand brushed her shoe knowing that he was too late in his reaction. 

Shazza lurched upright, a mad, wild look in her green eyes. Time paused. Jackie struggled in Paris' terrified grip.

As she watched the black swarm flared out like a cobra hood before twisting into a living tornado. Seconds crept by. The mass descended towards Shazza's back and its front edge gracefully skimmed across it. The bushwhacker arched back. Fry and Jackie both screamed, "NO!" But it was too late. The swarm parted around Shazza's twisting body and closed around her. Time snapped back into its normal pace. Jackie was panting for air. The swarm swooped closer. Paris lifted Jackie off her feet and back into the doorway as the creatures parted briefly, revealing that Shazza was being torn apart even as she struggled to get away. Then they surged past the open door and up over the top spraying them with a fine saline, copperish, mist.

That spurred Paris into action. "I think we should get inside. We can close the doors if we are inside!" Jackie was dragged backwards as she fixed her eyes on Riddick, who was calmly standing and slapping the dirt off of his hands. He walked the rest of the way to the hold, knowing exactly how deadly the situation was now. The second wave of creatures headed off the first wave crashing with it in a mass of blood frenzied feeding. Paris carried Jackie inside, even though she had wanted to wait for Riddick. The convict entered with Fry. The doors boomed shut with a metallic clang. For a moment they huddled together in the dark, their ears filled with the inhuman sounds from outside. Then Paris found his lighter. The single flame was not much, but it did allow them for locate a couple of hand lights and for Johns to turn on the light connected to his shotgun.

Jackie was near Imam. The danger-sensation had not stopped. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure everyone could hear it. And she was grieving for Shazza. "She should've stayed down. If only she'd stayed down, she'd be okay. She wouldn't have died," Jackie said somberly.

"Remember the bone-yard? These might be the fuckers that killed off every other living thing on the planet," Johns was doing his best to stay calm, but his way with kids was not very developed. Furthermore, the bushwhacker had made grave errors. Trusting in Riddick for one, so how Johns figured it, her hours had been numbered anyway.

Jackie was less then impressed with Johns' deductive reasoning, "What are we gonna do now?" Suddenly she felt very much like a child. Like the child she'd never been allowed to be. She was scared. All she wanted was to be held. Imam must have sensed it too, as he put a light reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Are these the only lights we have? Is-is this everything?" Paris asked.

"No. There's a cutting torch on the floor here somewhere, I just can't find it," Fry answered Paris.

Through the conversation the holy man's attention had been on Jack and something else… The sounds outside swept past again, like sonar signals. "Quiet, please, everyone," Imam ordered.

"Why do they make that sound?" Jackie leaned against the door. Hassan and Suleiman did too. Imam placed his hand on it.

The predators were looking for a way in, or another meal… That would be too harsh to tell the boy. Instead Imam answered him; "Perhaps it's the way they see. With sound reflect--"

Suddenly something clattered to the ground inside the hold with them. Everyone started back except for Riddick. Fry spoke, "Might be a breach in the hull…." Jackie felt the danger hum increase a notch. She gulped air and glued her eyes onto the one person who still seemed calm and collected. The back of his bald head caught the lights of the group faintly as he stood apart, alone, half in the darkness as if he was tempting fate to swing against him.

"Come on, Johns. You got the big gauge," Riddick had his back to the group and was scanning the gloom.

"I'd rather piss glass. Why don't you fucking check."

Paris snapped, "I'm not staying here anymore!" He went for the door.

"Paris!" Imam and Fry caught him. "You don't know what's out there." The docking pilot shook him.

"Yeah, but I do know what is in here…" 


	9. Hunger in the Darkness

Hunger in the Darkness

Imam's boys took matters into their own hands and got on of the smaller compartments open. "Hurry! Go, get in." Imam ushered everyone inside. No one needed to be told twice. They were all temporarily relieved when Imam fastened the latch. Riddick squinted in the concentrated light and pulled his goggles back on. They all caught their breath. The danger seemed to decrease somewhat. Jackie looked at everyone. Her danger sense tingled up and down her spine. Whatever it was that waited in the main compartment was much larger than the tiny creatures that took Ali and Shazza. Her mind was drawn back to the moment by a voice whining.

"Now we're trapped in a much smaller space," wheezed Paris. "I hate this."

Imam relaxed against the door with a sigh. Jackie was watching Riddick, and Riddick was paying attention to something outside. His jaw tightened at about the same moment the buzz jumped up into overdrive. It was here. Jackie turned her attention toward the latch just above Imam's head seconds before as talon thrust its way through the door. Jackie reached for the holy man's arm and pulled him toward her, away from the door as the others reacted, mostly squealing and leaping back. But Riddick had the cutting torch at hand, somehow he'd always had it, and he fired it up using Paris' lighter then adjusted the flame into a sharp white-hot point. Paris flinched from the sudden heat and light, his reaction ignored by the bald, goggled, man. Survival dictated that they move, now. Riddick ignored the pain that the bright hot light wrought on his eyes even through the goggles, cutting through the wall into the next container and kicking the way open. The torch passed to Fry who took it without questioning how it came into Riddick's possession in the first place. The talon at the latch was joined by several others, which were shredding the metal door like it was paper. Everyone clambered through the still hot opening fleeing the predator hot on their trail.

Jackie was too busy to pay much attention to anything but helping everyone plug the resulting hole. Once done everyone began to look around. Jackie stayed next to Fry within the light of the torch as the others fanned out into the darkness. This container was large and open – too open – fear curled inside Jackie's belly. The hum never lessened. She fought off a cramp rooted in the fact that her body was passing out clots of tissue. 'God, not now… please not now,' she pleaded as she moved to follow Fry and Johns. Riddick's deep voice cut through the darkness "Extremely bad timing." There was a pause, then, "Just don't run."

Fry called out, "Riddick?"

Three words came back at them, "Don't. Stop. Burning." Deliberately paced, like he was involved in something very taxing. Jackie caught her breath; they were back in the open part of the hold. With the creatures.

Fry and Johns switched lights and he began to cut into the next container. Imam rushed back into the circle and realized someone besides Riddick was missing, "Hassan? Where is Hassan?" Panic tinged his voice. Fry popped the light off the shotgun and handed the gun back to Johns. Sudden noise behind the group caused them all to turn. Riddick dodged into view, screamed in pain from the sudden onslaught of light and dove to the floor. Right behind him was an ash colored creature. Jackie glimpsed an angular mouth filled with long piercing teeth set into a sharply crested head just before it swerved up and away into the darkness. Johns' shotgun rang off several wild blasts. There was a pause Jackie blinked, aware that the image of the ravenous beast was burned into her mind's eye. Then it landed in front of them with a moist thud – dead. She along with everyone else started back.

"Is it alive?" Fry asked. Paris huddled behind her. Jackie was looking at the thing's grayed skin watching as the hand-light beams caused the flesh to steam, blister, bubble and crack on what they could see.

"It's like the light is scalding it." Paris noted out loud becoming bolder with the discovery.

"It hurts them, Light actually hurts them." Fry said with wonder. Then the creature let out one last twitch driving them all back in fear. The other creatures in the room indicated that they knew the death had happened and were coming in for the meal…Like a pack of hyenas. The light swept up into the darkness in response to the sounds.

The ex-ranger got up off the floor and rejoined them, his shirt cut and a faint line of blood showing the effects of his exploration. "Is that Hassan?" Imam called, still hopeful the boy was alive. Jackie looked at Riddick's impassive face. 'No, not Hassan,' she thought, 'He must've run.'

"We'll burn a candle for him later," Johns turned back to the opening he'd cut, "Come on, let's get out of here."

The next container was Paris' container. They blocked the hole with a bunch of heavy items before moving a crate over to be a makeshift table. At least the space was solidly enclosed, large enough for everyone to breath, but small enough to be secure. The cutting torch became their light. Fry guided Jack to the back of the container, near the solid wall. She was not sure why but she wanted some space between the child and Johns. '_You better know exactly who's standing behind you_…' So the docking pilot knew she trusted Jack. The child's cheer in the face of terror had pulled her out of more than one slump, and he'd been right about Riddick when it came to Zeke. Imam settled in near Fry forming a separation between her and Johns. Suleiman was across from him. The blonde knew she trusted the holy man and his remaining pilgrim. But between Johns, Paris, and Riddick, whom did she trust? Riddick stood near the blocked opening and Paris roamed about the space rooting for what small things remained that might be of use.

They were down to seven with Hassan's death, Jackie noted as she sat with her side facing the torch. The skiff had seats for six…. She shuttered as the inhuman sounds wailed around the container. The sensation she was feeling of peril left her drained and scared. All she wanted was for Riddick to hold her. Not that he would with the others around, but she wanted so badly to be in his arms, safe.

Fry was talking, listing inventory, "We got two hand lights, one cutting torch, there's got to be something we can rip out of the crash ship…" Jackie mentally added Paris' lighter and Johns' shotgun light to the list but did not say anything.

"Spirits," Paris added. "Anything over 45 proof burns rather well."

"How many bottles you got?" Fry asked.

"Ten, maybe…."

Jackie's body was cramping badly. 'Just now deciding to flow heavy, huh? Why? Why not wait another half day?' She hugged her knees tighter and tried not to drop her head down. Riddick was watching her. Did she stink of copper again? Should she say anything? Would they leave her behind? Jackie tried to see if Riddick was indicating any answers, but his face, while softer, held an expression that was just as sheltered as it had been when he was like stone.

"And, Johns, you have some flares." Fry continued. "So, maybe we have enough light."

Johns went to high alert. "Enough for what?" he demanded.

"We stick to the plan, Johns! We get the four cells back to the skiff and we're off this rock!" Fry was pissed sounding enough for Jackie to look at her. There was fire in Fry's eyes making them blaze like the sapphire sun now hidden behind the neighboring planet…. It was almost like Fry was accusing Johns for getting them into this mess in the first place. What had he said to her?

"Oh, lady. If you're in your right mind I pray you go insane." Johns countered.

Paris stood up and crossed between the two as he spoke, "I hate to ruin a beautiful theory with ugly fact. But that sand-cat is solar."

"So we carry the cells. Drag them, whatever it takes."

Jackie chewed on her lip for a long second. "You mean – tonight? With all those things still out there?" The things trying to eat them she mentally added. She was still seeing the image of all teeth in a diamond-shaped mouth with every blink. A chill shuttered through her. It was getting cold now that the suns were blocked off. The thin atmosphere did not hold heat well. Riddick was still watching her. His eyes took in every nuance. Jackie was sure of it.

"Well, how long can this night last? A few hours? A day, tops?" Johns was against them trying to get back to the skiff in the dark.

Imam quietly interrupted, "I got the impression from the model that there will be a lasting darkness…." Jackie thought she remembered Fry clicking over to 23 and the planets still being lined up….

Johns either didn't get it or thought the model was wrong, "These suns gotta come up sometime. I say we sit it out until dawn."

Jackie stared at him…. No way they could sit it out for a year…. She was beginning to state the fact, to remind him, when Fry stated, "I'm sure someone else said that. Locked inside the Coring Room."

Johns decided to try another tactic, zeroing in on Jackie's curled form and misinterpreting why she was sitting the way she was. "Look, we gotta think of everyone here – Especially the kid. How scared is he gonna be out there in the dark?"

'Well, at least he hasn't guessed….' Jackie thought. Sure, she was scared. No doubt about it. But fear was a survival instinct, wasn't it? If anyone was driven by cowardice at this point it would be Johns…Fry seemed to notice too, and she was already beyond to point of being civil about it, "Oh, don't use Jack like that!"

"Like what?" Johns tried to cover with a mask of innocence that fit like a badly cut suit… Everyone could see it.

"Like a smoke-screen!" Fry was furious; "You deal with your own fear!" Her voice conveyed that Johns had sunk down to the bottom of the totem pole in her eyes. Below Paris, below Jack, even below Riddick.

Jackie looked from the docking pilot to the merc. He was not dealing well with the sudden loss of stature in the group. His face flushed in anger, "Shut your mouth give me a second to come up with a plan that doesn't involve mass-suicide, Okay?" His voice was low and tight.

Fry stared at him in a challenge for what seemed to be a very long moment…. Everyone else could see that Fry was finally taking charge and Johns was resisting it. "How much do you weight, Johns?" she finally asked in a calmer tone.

"Why? What does it matter?" Johns looked at her, confused.

"How much!" Fry's anger flared back to the surface.

"Around 79 kilos--"

"Because you're 79 kilos of gutless white meat!" Fry slung the insult with venom, "And that's why you can't come up with a better plan!"

Johns moved for his shotgun and swung it up. Suddenly Riddick was standing there, in his way, "Where are you going?" Johns threatened as he shifted the gauge up under the other man's jaw. For his part, the convict stayed calm. He just lifted his goggles and looked at the merc with a slight smile. Jackie could hear a light 'thump, thump' of metal hitting heavy fabric in a slow rhythm.

"This solves nothing," Imam cautioned. Both Johns and Riddick ignored his plea. Their stare-down lasted until Johns felt the shiv tapping against his balls that Jackie could hear like an echo to her own heartbeat.

"Okay…." Johns backed down. The point made, Riddick moved back into the darkness near the cut but plugged opening. Johns sat, still watching Riddick. 'He could take your hyped ass down at any moment,' Jackie thought, 'and you'd never even realize that he'd cut you open until your guts hit the floor.'

"They're afraid of our light," Fry said as she knelt down by Jackie and put a hand on her shoulder. She was, in reality, speaking to everyone, "which means we don't have to be so scared of them."

Imam's robes rustled as he moved over to Jackie and Fry. "And you are sure you can get us back to the skiff? Even in the dark?"

"No." Fry looked at Imam, "I can't." Then she looked across the room. Suddenly it was crystal clear. She could trust Riddick. He had just stepped in and stopped Johns from blowing her head apart at close range. She hadn't asked him to put his life on the line; he'd just done it seemingly without thought to his own neck. Instead of trusting Johns as she had all this time she found herself focused on the muscular man's barely visible back. "But he can." Jackie saw Riddick start as he realized Fry was talking about him. He turned to look at the docking pilot, his face betraying a mixture of emotion that had just a bit of awe and surprise in it. The holy man looked at Riddick, too, and nodded.

It was all the approval Carolyn Fry needed. Imam agreed. They would stick to the plan. It was Johns who'd gotten them into this mess by convincing her to fucking wait until the "last possible moment" anyhow. God, how stupid could she have been? They could have been off this rock already. Now more of them were gonna die. All she had to think about that was that Johns had better be among those unknowns, because so help her, he'd cut a deal with Riddick and somehow she was going to keep it… if they fucking lived to make it back to the skiff. She picked up the torch off the crate with the anger boiling in her veins. 'From now on if a guy give you the creeps, even if he's in a company uniform, you treat him like he's scum,' she told herself.

Somehow the group of seven made it back to the cargo door. The buzz in Jack's soul had become an even drone of ever-present danger. Riddick could sense that she felt it but was not sure how or why they were united in this common sensation. He had in inkling of it when she'd grabbed the holy man and pulled him away from the talons digging for his skull. And although the convict's nose said she was clean, clearly the hammer-headed monsters had a much finer sense of smell. He instinctively placed himself between her and the hunger that waited restlessly just outside the circle of the light. He felt certain urgency and more than a little fear. Every time people relied on him they died. Given the current situation he'd be surprised if any of them made it.

Jackie held back the raw horror that boomed through her skull as the group moved back outside. The first obstacle was merely surviving long enough to make it to the main door. She was sandwiched between Imam and Paris, with Riddick calmly walking near her side as they inched into the open air. Fry had the torch mixed to the brightest possible flame. The darkness howled with inhuman fury, inhuman hunger. All they had to do was to get the lights turned on in the main ship….

"Riddick," Fry whispered as she motioned for him to come forward. Jackie watched him break away from the rest of them and pass Fry so that the light was behind him.

He lifted his goggles and scanned the dark interior of the crash, "Looks clear." Something in his voice was cautious. His body language held everyone back. Everyone but Johns. That prompted Riddick to smirk, 'Ah, yes. Please die here.' Johns impatiently pushed past Fry and towards the crash, his light stabbing the darkness like a laser. At the intrusion Riddick put his goggles back down. At first all seemed well, but as he panned the light into a deeper corner the shadow screeched, rustled to life and flew at them. Johns dodged to the side, Riddick flattened himself to the ground, and everyone else nearly sat in one another's laps. "Fuck! You said 'Clear'," Johns screamed at Riddick from where he was laying on his back.

"I said 'looks clear'," Riddick corrected, sounding somewhat amused that Johns had almost lost his head. He was amused, but it would have been so much better had the creature actually grabbed the blue-eyed devil as it flew past. Just his rotten luck.

"Well," Johns couldn't even retort to that, "what does it look like now?"

Riddick lifted his head, shrugged his shoulders, and answered, "Looks clear." Maybe another hammerhead would rush him and this time make a meal of him… Johns glowered at the ex-ranger, his temper building.

Fry interrupted before Johns could go off again, "Can we just get the lights on, already?"

Riddick nearly pouted before locating the switch. The fiber optics jumped to life, bathing the entire crash with a pale blue-green glow. Everyone hurried into the protective luminescence. So now what. Fry noticed that the sled was back in the settlement. Did they have time to make another one? More to the point, with Shazza and Zeke both gone did anyone have the skill to? She looked around. Paris was trying to figure out how to make some type of wick for the bottles of booze. Johns was standing guard, doing nothing, as usual. Imam and Suleiman were hunting for additional light. Riddick and Jackie were both staring at the sand-cat… She walked over to them and looked out too. If there was just some way to get it running. Jackie noticed that the sand-cat was near the side cargo door. Shazza had nearly backed it up into the ship. The cells they needed were already loaded on it. She felt more than saw the docking pilot join them, "Hey, I know the sand-cat's solar. But--" She paused as the others stopped to look at her, "If the ship has extra power cells why couldn't the electrical of the sand-cat be switched over?"

The holy man heard the suggestion, straightened up, and walked over to the three of them blinking with astonishment. Why not indeed? It was a brilliant solution, if the correct parts could be found undamaged. Imam knew that the basic electrical systems were the same. All this solar cat lacked that most others had were batteries. The power cells were batteries too. Imam looked at Fry. "We would need a converter, perhaps something from the computer systems?"

"Do you think it can be done?" Fry asked Imam. She had her doubts but it would make the trip faster and possibly more of them would survive if the 'cat could be adapted to run on battery power.

"The computers on the ship must be powered from something, and the child is correct," Imam put his hand on Jackie's head, "If we had the right converter the sand-cat will treat all power sources as the same, as long as they are electric."

Paris was already shooting down the plan, "Well, that leaves us with the problem of how to get the sand-cat inside so it can be worked on. I'm not gonna even try to work out there."

"We got cable." Riddick was eyeing the situation. The fan of light from the open door gave him enough protection to risk stepping outside. He moved out to the back of the vehicle and looked at the chassis for some points to lift it by. 4 centimeters. Just 4 tiny centimeters and then he could shoulder the 'cat inside. The distance was not far, and if they could lift the back of the sand-cat, he could push, and it would clear the lip on the cargo door. Then they could work in the electrical in the relative safety of the bluish light. The vehicle could get them to the head of the canyon, maybe even back to the skiff itself, and if they could make it and only lose one… well, that would be a fucking miracle.

Suleiman didn't wait. He hustled for the coils of cable. His determination got Johns' attention and the merc wandered over and looked at everyone staring out at the vehicle. He watched Jackie as the boy moved out to Riddick who was figuring out how to move the sand-cat and stay in one piece. Johns tightened his jaw. Real soon now, he'd play that card and reel the son-of-a-bitch back in like a weak, nearly dead, fish. The killer just never learned. 'Yeah, go ahead and make friends, your vampire ass is still mine.'

"Hey," Jackie said softly. Riddick, from where he was crouching, looked up at her, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Did I do good?" she asked. He nodded, ignoring the fake-badge and his drug induced delusions. He stood and ushered the teen back inside.

Fry walked up to them, "You think I'm gonna let you go out into the dark and push that sand-cat inside?"

"What choice do you have, captain?" Riddick was still looking at Jackie. He had a new admiration for her smarts. Even though terror pushed at her from all sides she was shaping up as one tough, resourceful gal. The type of woman he could get attached to. 'Now don't be jumping ahead of yourself. We gotta live through this before you go and start thinking about tomorrow. Besides what type of life could you possibly offer her? She'd be much better off at Helion. We make it that far that's where she gets off.' That's what Richard told the beast inside, and Richard meant it, truly he did. But even as he said the words to himself he knew that the primitive side of him didn't like it. There would be much internal debate about that no matter what Richard felt was best for Jack.

"None, I suppose. But we should have enough fiber optics to run you out a light line, Riddick. I don't see why we can't rip out the lights from the areas we are not using." Riddick tore his eyes off Jack and looked at Fry. The docking pilot was serious about providing him some protection. He nodded. First the bushwhacker, now the company cog. This was just— spooky. Riddick let his gaze settle on the docking pilot. She was not like Johns. She was not a merc, he reminded himself. Why shouldn't she be smart enough to see that sometimes killers were made not born? The real difference between he and Johns was that the merc liked to kill, and the ex-ranger only did what was necessary to survive. Ever since the Wailing Wars Johns had been on his ass, no matter what he had done to shake him… Now it would end, either here or on Tangiers, and Riddick would rather it end here.

As soon as Riddick's luminous eyes were off her, Jackie kicked herself into gear. Fry hadn't told her to do it, but she needed to put some space between herself and Riddick all of the sudden. "I'll get started," she said as she moved off. Something about the large muscular man was flustering her. Hell, everything was unsettling her at the moment. Moving away from him let her breathe a little. 'What the fuck is going on? Here I am in a life-threatening situation and suddenly the one person I feel truly safe around is making me feel-- squirmy. He's been the one thing that's rock solid here. Why can't I catch my breath around him all of the sudden?' She passed Paris who was converting bottles of Jack Daniel's over to homemade lamps. Suleiman passed her with his upper body laden down with coils of cable. Imam was back to looking for additional lights and already found a second cutting torch and a handful of miner's lights. Johns was eyeing everything happening, but as the cable came over he switched his attention to the roof, looking for supports strong enough to take the pressure necessary to lift the sand-cat. He too could see that they'd have to raise the back to clear the door. Jackie set to the task of removing the longest pieces of fiber optic cable she could find. The quest took her near the buried front end of the ship. She noticed that the broken windows were filled with dirt. She heard scratching noises above her on the hull. The buzz was stronger here. 'Not safe,' she mentally warned herself. But she followed the light to the end and began removing the glowing rope as she followed it backwards. She looped it across her body as she went.

Johns found himself rigging cable around several different overhead beams. He was not sure why he even bothered. He should by all rights shoot the bunch of them and take off with Riddick. Except for the fact that he needed Fry unless he wanted to trust the ex-ranger again. He had a feeling that Riddick was on to his deal, and that the con knew they were heading to Tangiers for one reason. It was the end of the line. So, of course Riddick was going to help out. He had to get on these folks good side because if he didn't, one way or another he'd be dead. Unfortunately it looked like Riddick was being overly successful. The merc kept an eye on the docking pilot and his quarry both of whom were speaking softly enough that he couldn't understand them without looking like he was listening.

"Listen, Riddick, if this works we should have some type of agreement--" Fry started.

"Done with that." Riddick said softly.

"But I was thinking of J--"

"Nobody's gonna turn a murder loose. I fuckin' know better. But it's been a long time since anyone's trusted me. And that's something right there."

Fry licked her lips and glanced over at Johns' back as he tossed another cable up over a beam, "We can. Can't we? I mean, trust you?"

She turned back to find him smiling at her, "That's what I've been asking myself." For a time they locked gazes. Fry finally nodded. At least she knew exactly who was behind her. She watched him move over to the cables and begin attaching the ends to the 'cat's chassis. There was something disconcerting about Johns and Riddick working together like this, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was exactly. Johns wasn't challenging Riddick like he'd done in the cargo hold. Instead he had a chilling air about him like he'd made some sort of internal decision. 'Watch your back,' came the mental warning. She decided to find something to do and moved off toward Imam. Frankly, she was worried about Jack. She was worried about them all…

By the time Jackie returned Johns had worked the cables to several positions, trying to spread out the stress to come. The fake-badge noted the boy's return and was impressed by his load of fiber optics. It was too bad, really, that the boy had to die if he was going to get his payday when this was all over. He paused to look as the bronze-skinned man in the cool illumination. Riddick was hunched down watching the shapes moving just outside the ship's circle of light. Johns paused and looked into the darkness too. It seemed to him that the convict liked to test fate. Still…for a moment he considered what Riddick was doing to help them out. It was the longest time he'd spent side by side with the con awake. As a target, Riddick had proven difficult to track, as a person, he was impossible to understand. 'No, he's not a person. He's an animal, a killer. He's never gonna change,' Johns passed Riddick's actions off as self-preservation.

Jackie handed the coil of fiber optics to Fry who was near the holy man, "I'm gonna help Imam and get the converter out…Shazza told me the wattage the sand-cat converts the solar energy to, so I should be able to find what we need." Fry nodded and took the light. Jackie moved back off into the darkness…The area she needed to be was where Owens died. The computers there held all the info about the ship, and they were for the most part still working.

Although he'd been staring outside his attention was focused internally. He knew when Jack came back even without looking. The wild, savage part of him was currently winning control, as Richard needed his strength to push the 'cat. He had to tap into that which he normally kept in check, under a tight stranglehold. The darkness wanted. It bargained with the human half, 'Let me have what I want, I will help without reservation every time you need me.' Riddick turned, his nose picking her scent up and pulling his attention her way. He watched her go off again into the gloom. His two sides were at war over her. The human side of him wanted to keep her safe, 'She gets to New Mecca and stays.' The primitive side of him just wanted, 'No. Mine. She must be given a chance to choose.' He struggled with the problem even after she was out of sight. They could agree on desire if nothing else. Finally Richard resolved that it wouldn't harm anything to let himself follow through with the impulses he had as long as it didn't hurt her. 'Fine, we could all die out there, even with my impression that I'll survive. She might not.' The beast purred, knowing that it would now get a chance to claim what it wanted. Part of what it held was the ability to get through these types of sticky situations, something Richard knew he'd need. Sooth the beast, get its help, and deal with the aftermath later. He pushed the bargain he'd made with his darkness into the back of his mind as he prepared to move the vehicle into the hold.

She wiggled her way past the wreckage and into the main computer interface. If she could just find the electrical diagram for the ship, she would have the location of the converter. Jackie pulled up a crate and sat down where the chair had originally been located. She toggled the computer on and began working her way into the ship's database. 'Weakly encrypted, older computer system, easy to crack. Not even a problem.' The files flipped past until she located the info she needed. The converter was right next to the main data drive. She then snooped at the passenger files. Everything she needed right down to the medical references was there. But she had a problem. The data she needed meant either taking out the drive or transferring the info to another one. Removal of the drive would destroy the one converter that was what they had to have to make the sand-cat run on the power cells. She put her head down. Hell. A backup storage drive? She looked around for one but found none. 'Okay,' she thought, 'just carefully remove the whole thing and maybe both will make it.' She licked her lips and worked open the computer's side panel. Fry's voice startled her, "Jack?"

"Over here, captain."

"What are you doing, Jack?" Fry squeezed through and squatted down next to her. She had a hand light with her.

"Well, I located the right converter," she pointed it out, "but it will likely short the hard drive when I take it out."

"Um, and you were looking at the passenger files because?" No way to miss the man Zeke shot staring out at them.

"Well—I know Zeke killed a fellow who could've been a dead ringer for Riddick. I wanted to know his name." Jackie looked at Fry. Fry raised an eyebrow at her. Jackie could see the gears turning in Fry's brain.

"How did you get into the system, Jack? It was locked under Owens' password."

"I don't know… I just did. The encryption on your security system is shit. I just bypassed it. Look, if Johns is gonna let Riddick go, I can likely alter the files…." Jack whispered. Why she trusted Fry she didn't have a clue, but if there were any way to save the files without destroying the converter in the process Fry would likely know.

"Um, you can?" Jackie bit her lip and nodded. Fry thought for a moment. It would cement the deal, right? If they made it off this world Riddick could really 'die' and no one would know any different… That was if Jack could make it look like Riddick did die here. "But, there's a problem…." Fry had to tell the boy about Johns' doublecross, "I'm not sure if Johns will keep his side of the deal. In fact, he told me that Riddick was going to go back to Tangiers Penal," The docking pilot responded in similar hushed tones. Something about that, maybe the way Johns had said it, made her cold inside. She stared at Jack for a minute, then stood up, moved over to a built in locker, and pulled out a small pocket-computer in its protective case. "Let's do it anyway, Jack. It's mine, just wipe what you need to make room."

Jackie nodded. That was why she trusted Fry. She linked the pocket-'puter to the ship mainframe and transferred what data she needed. A few of Fry's games had to go but not all of them. "Johns has a bigger, more powerful, laptop. I hope he stashed it on the skiff. I can use it to do the work" Jackie told her. "It's a company issue…. I might just be able to link it up to the guild network once we get to a shipping lane." Fry was somewhat surprised until she thought about the type of person that Johns was turning out to be. Jackie looked at the transfer again, "Okay." She disconnected, "Now we need to kill the power." The blonde woman went over to the emergency fire switch and hit it. The panel lights around them went out. Jackie blinked until Fry brought over the light and panned it inside the computer so she could see the converter, "Think we will need extra wire?"

"Better gather as much as possible, if we don't need it, we won't use it."

Jack did just that. She followed the connections to the converter until reaching the opposite ends and used wire cutters to cut it free. As she feared the power surge caused by the converter's removal set the hard drive to sparking. Likely, it suffered some damage. "Got it. Here," Jackie handed the converter over to Fry as she backed out of the small space. It was a good thing she had no hair she mused ruefully; otherwise she'd be patting herself out…

They returned to the sounds of others moving the sand-cat inside. They could tell that Paris even was helping, as he looked exhausted. Fry and Jack grabbed a cable together behind Suleiman and pulled. Riddick pushed the heavy 'cat into the ship then spent a few moments, along with the rest of them, sucking on breathers. Finally he set the optic cable on the floor and unbolted the solar panel's clear protective bubble. Johns wandered off somewhere. The remaining pilgrim set off to gather more fiber optics. Jackie secured Fry's pocket-'puter in a leg pocket, padding it with sanitary napkins and discarding the ones that wouldn't fit. Imam raised an eyebrow at her and Fry almost as if he sensed some type of conspiracy at work. Fry moved over and whispered Jackie's idea to him. It was clear that he understood the implications of what they were thinking and did not approve, but he also was not going to say anything about it. "Here is the converter," Fry said out loud.

"Ah, Allah answers my prayers again," Imam took the part and set to work on a power cell. Jackie moved over to Riddick and took the clear cover off as he got it loose. She looked at him, raised and eyebrow about Imam's comment and grinned. 'God had nothing to do with it,' she thought. She could tell Riddick was thinking the same thing.

Paris moved over to Fry and Imam, "What are you two whispering about?"

"I discovered my pocket-computer survived the crash, so I was telling Imam here that we'd have to work out an entertainment schedule for it." Fry dared Paris to challenge her, "But I was trying to keep it secret."

"You mean we'll have games to occupy us as we wait for someone to pick us up?" Paris questioned. Fry nodded. "Oh, what a joyful discovery. Now we just have to live long enough to reach the damn skiff." He spoke dryly.

Jackie began to help Riddick take out the rotating solar unit. She both wanted to work with him and wanted to be away from him. He made her feel—jittery, tremblingly so, and rather uncomfortable. It scared her almost as much as the hammerheads trying to eat them. The internal tension built up until she just had to get some space again. Luckily, there were excuses she could use to get that time alone. "We got the wheels braced?" She asked, as it became clear that something would have to be unhooked from underneath.

"Not yet." Riddick was brief. He felt it also. The inner beast struggling to explode outwards. Something about her smell… It wasn't really anything he could describe. In a way he was just as relieved as she was when Jackie moved away to wipe off her hands. In another he wanted to catch her and hold her right there. He wanted to make her stay. The conflict immobilized him.

"Okay, I'll find something to use." Jackie once again moved off into the gloom. She didn't need to go far to find ruble that would work.

She heard Fry tell Paris, "I'll help you with those bottles."

"Yes, thank you."

It had not taken Jackie long to lug back four sections of twisted metal to brace the wheels of the sand-cat. Her mind had not thought of the incident that caused her to leave home nor the taunts at the first stop she had made for what seemed to be days. But alone, searching for something, anything, to keep the sand-cat from moving some tiny part of her brain brought up the very reason for her disguise. It might have been just to keep her thoughts off the goggled man working to free the solar unit from its housing. She felt half-hearted anger flare, 'Foul mouthed, toad-eaten, slim-infested….' She couldn't come up with a good clean ending. Jackie picked up the first two bits for one wheel. 'Fat-assed, -- HEAVY,' she thought as she grunted with effort. She struggled with the burdensome chunks, raising a welcome overabundance of body heat in the process. At first Riddick didn't notice, but her third and fourth pieces came back individually. The sweat from her heavy work snapped his resolve. The beast boiled to the surface. Had Richard been in change, he would've said something but instead the beast glanced around and followed the girl. 'Not hard to find,' he seemed to be saying as he moved around and cornered her. It was time. "What?" Jackie said with her customary fire, "Look, you gonna help me or just stand and stare?"

"We don't need to brace but two wheels, Jack," His voice purred softly at her. He looked _absolutely_ amused. And something about his body posture was different. He was leaning, relaxed, against some of the fallen equipment, with one arm braced against the support post. Jackie dropped the metal she had in her hands. She had a flash of a large feline predator lounging high in a tree, waiting for a meal to walk by. He just waited, watching her, smelling her, letting her stir _something_ deep inside himself that he had once thought Carolyn Fry would stir until he realized that she would never respond to him in like fashion. He had been waiting for her for so long. She was unique in his experience. He had never smelled anyone else like her. Her scent. So much like that place of his visions. The place he denied knowledge of from the first time he'd seen it. Visions to horrific to understand, haunting him with their persistent reality. What she symbolized to his darkness was the path to the light, and it needed her. All the human in him could do was watch it play out and try to keep the wild thing controlling him from hurting her.

The electric current she felt before was building again. Only this time it was direct, raw, and unfiltered. Her heart thudded in her ears suddenly, pounding in her chest. She was breathless again, and the blood tingled in her cheeks as her face flushed. Jackie finally muttered, "Okay…." It was all she could do to get that out. She had been taunted, harassed, violated, and hurt. But this was different. The way he looked at her was gentle but fierce. The way he moved was wild but graceful. The way he made her feel was unspoiled but restless. And it was something she desired to delve into as much as she was frightened by it. 'Oh, no. He's not looking at me like a kid…But what? It's not like good ol' pops looked at me either. Somethin' new, is what this is…And I've never seen anything like it before. Why does that look make me tingle inside?' She felt a touch of pain and realized she was chewing on her lip.

He lazily moved. Kind of like a stretch, in a way, that brought him closer to the doe-eyed Jackie. He savored this one tiny moment of calm before running a gauntlet of razor sharp death. Then there was Carolyn Fry, who smelled good at first, until he'd noticed the faint tang of another woman on her in the skiff. So, okay, he could deal with that, no reason to condemn her. But…. Somehow she was suddenly more of a challenge for what he wanted than any other man there was. Jackie. He knew her by another name, long ago. She wasn't using that name now. Jackie suited her. It echoed through his brain, this new name. He'd call her that. He felt the energy flowing between them. Something about her stirred him into action. His instincts knew what to do. "I'm gonna get you off this rock. But you gotta do something for me first," he slowly continued moving towards her.

Jackie swallowed, "Okay…." She wanted to run but was locked in position. She shivered, flushing hot and cold at the same time as she glued her eyes on him. In this dim light she could only see his outline and his silver eyes. She felt like he was deciding if she made the grade or not. Like he was judging her on his own restrained reaction. It had to be restrained, she figured, because she'd never seen him like this before. Circling wild. Driven by something she didn't fully comprehend yet. Something exciting. Electric. Like she'd felt with Fry in the room. It made her curious. What was he sensing? She could imagine him at home in a wild place, a natural place, living to the rules that animals lived to. He was sniffing her! It hit Jackie like a ton of bricks, and her heart began to speed up as her cheeks flushed anew. Her hair would have stood on end had she had any left. And she could smell him. His scent shot sparks through her torso, rooting to a sensation she'd never felt before. Her eyelids fluttered as the musk washing over her blotted out reason. His voice resonated through her as he moved in close, his nose taking in every delicate tiny piece of her scent. She could feel his hot breath on her nearly bald head.

"Don't move," he murmured into her ear as he bent into her space. Jackie didn't even swallow again as he circled her. The beast knew what this one was feeling. It had followed this beginning rite every time it had been released from the tight mental binds that "Richard" kept it in. It had done this simply to see if someone would respond with the counter step. None of the women he'd stolen a night with had understood. A few had enjoyed it; most had laughed it off before doing what he'd spent his ill-gotten money for them to do. This one… she understood, by instinct if nothing else. Her innocence of these matters was a stumbling block of a sort, as her reactions would be hesitant, unless he could overwhelm her, seduce the fear away, then perhaps she would make the next move, the next bit of the ritual… He skimmed over her back as he circled, close enough to raise the hairs on her skin with anticipation but far enough away to not mar her scent with his own.

She was faintly aware that he was almost touching her. Only her shallow, shaky breathing broke the statue-like stillness she held herself in. He again circled close, causing every nerve in Jackie's tiny body to spark in alertness. Caught up in the moment she didn't hear anything except her own pounding heartbeat. She didn't even hear his quiet footfalls or the slight sound of his own breathing even though she felt the warm puffs of air from it. He was at her side now, one arm curved around her back, trailing in his path. She could feel the heat off his body. Her head slowly tilted to his motion as she unconsciously tried to catch more of his odor.

The action pleased him. It was a start. The correct reaction, albeit a baby step of one. He began to heat up more. His body responded like it was inherent for it to do. He purred with pleasure. After years of searching… Years of waiting… Years of running… here she was. The one he'd known would come. He paused in front of her for a moment, watching her face as she soaked up his musk, totally absorbed in the experience. She was radiant. He bent in closer, letting her tuck her face into his neck as he encircled her loosely in his arms in a tightening spiral. He slowly continued around her toward her other side, still not touching her.

Once again time slowed, but not for a bad reason. Jackie felt lifted away from her troubles. Some part of her knew that scent. It had always been comforting but now there were subtle undertones that made it entrancing. She wanted to drench herself in it. She wanted… Her body began to twist, moving in conjunction to his. She felt him slide behind her back and gracefully moved to catch him on the other side. He made a sound, like a contented rumble, deep in his chest as she twisted and reached with her arms for his neck. She wanted… her lips tingled, her tongue had a feeling on the edge of it like she'd eaten something salty. She stretched upwards, nearly on her tiptoes just to get her face back into the hollow of his throat he'd put in reach before. This time he was making her come to him.

He could feel her breath on his neck. The hairs lifted where her lips were slowly approaching. He froze waiting to see if she would do the next stage in the mating rite unbidden. His skin tingled. He hungered for the feeling of her lips brushing his skin. One touch would be enough of an answer. He wanted it… both sides of him wanted it. Then he smelled an intrusion. It pulled him out of the moment and he snapped his face away from Jackie. It took a moment for it to filter in who was coming. The beast didn't like it. A deep growl reverberated through his chest. He felt Jackie snap back to her senses. Her head pulled away from his neck and she settled back on her heels before lowering her arms. He felt her untwist slightly as she followed his quicksilver gaze into the gloom.

"Hey, Jack? Riddick? You two still with the living?" It was Fry. Jackie turned her large hazel eyes to Riddick's face, surprise registering about his reaction to the other woman even coming into smelling range.

"Yes, Carolyn." His voice implied 'go away' but the docking pilot was still there, trying to find them. His posture went defensive almost without him thinking about it an instant before Fry's blond head became visible. Jackie understood. Some part of Riddick saw Fry as a threat, but Jackie had no idea what type of threat Fry could possibly be. She noticed he was tense but not in a frozen sort of way. His energy was coiled like a spring, ready to release in deadly fashion in an instant.

The docking pilot's face looked relieved when she spotted Jackie's outline in the gloom half behind Riddick. Jackie standing, clothed, and in one piece…. Fry could only imagine what bad things a convict would do to a little boy like Jack, or rather, fear them. "Come on, Jack," she said as she raised a hand toward the child. The posture between the large man and the child made her feel somewhat sick inside, like she'd stumbled into something she shouldn't have. Fear rippled through her. She had to get Jack away from this situation… But Jackie didn't even notice Fry reaching out. The teen's focus was on the ex-ranger's protective reaction to the docking pilot's presence. Riddick didn't exactly growl again but Jackie felt the deep vibration wash over her. A warning sign telling her to stay put. But the sound alarmed the older woman, and she interpreted it differently than Riddick intended, "Jack!" Fry attempted to draw the boy's eyes to her. Jackie looked over at the woman shrouded in a back lit glow and noticed her shake her entire arm. "Come here, Jack."

But Riddick was not letting Jackie leave. And she knew better that to ignore his first order not to move. He'd cut something inside his being loose and it was wild, like an animal. Jackie felt her insides tingle with a wave that flowed from one end of her torso to the other. It was not a shiver. It was deeper. She looked again at the savage protectiveness that was visible in those luminous eyes. The tension was unbearable. He was going to kill the docking pilot unless Jackie did something to break his defensive taut impulse. His form could crush her with its power yet at this moment it was Fry who was in danger. Jackie reached for his face, just a light brush… Her hand sliding over his warmed skin caused his attention to focus on her. He moved, lightening fast… Catching her up and spinning her against him so that her back slammed into his chest. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. He made another growling vibration. She heard Fry let out an echo to her own gasp. Jackie felt his arms loosely cross over her torso, the motion tucking her under his chin. She was aware of his scent again. It was so warm. It made her feel safe. Now that he was physically touching her, the tingle seemed to stop. She could feel the steady pulse of his heart beating its way into her back. She relaxed and as she did so his vibration altered from a defensive to a contented one.

Fry expected to see Jack's little form crumpled on the floor with its throat slit open. Instead, she saw what looked like a bear protecting its cub, or more exact, a dominant male staking a claim-- 'Is he a pedophile? Is he that sick? Or am I missing something?' Fry was overtaken with questions she couldn't answer. Jack didn't look like Riddick. Yet the large man was protecting the boy, 'from me?' Fry wondered. Fry ran her tongue over her lips, "Okay, Riddick -- what the hell is going on?" it was a hushed whisper, but Fry knew he heard her.

"It's okay, Fry. He knew my mom. Some luck, huh?" Jackie was the one who spoke. Fry moved her eyes from Riddick's impassive, dangerous face to Jack who was almost hidden by the larger man's arms. Jackie moved a hand up onto one of Riddick's. The convict's entire posture morphed. He lowered his face into the top of Jack's head as a shudder ran through him. "I just told him about her habit and how the medics didn't think she'd make it. They grew up together."

Suddenly Fry felt red blood coursing into her cheeks. Perhaps she'd totally misinterpreted Riddick's body language. Or had she diffused a lethal situation? She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, "I'm so sorry. Is that why you were going to Tangiers, Jack?"

"Yeah. Her wonderful loving husband sent me away." Jackie said it with more bitterness than she really meant to. "I thought I should tell Riddick about her while I had the chance. I mean, we could all die out there--" Riddick put a large hand over her mouth. Fry saw his hand move and stayed quiet. A flashlight beam erratically cut through the shadows.


	10. Heaven's Tears

Heaven's Tears

People were missing. That was the first thing the merc noticed as he rejoined the group. Imam was working, his single remaining pilgrim helping him. Paris was testing material for wicks. So where the fuck was Fry, Jack, and Sir-shiv-a-lot? He asked the holy man as he passed him and got a shrug. Apparently the 'cat needed to have its wheels braced. Like it took 3 of them to find chunks of metal… He shouldered his shotgun and set off to find them. The eerie howling outside made it impossible to hear anything else from more then a few feet away, but he thought he heard Fry's voice. He swept his light into the darkness and spotted her blonde head. "Why the hell are you standing here in the fuckin' dark?" Johns appeared behind Fry. "Are you trying to get your ass eaten?"

Fry turned, "I was looking for you, asshole. Imam needs help with the sand-cat." She stalked off leaving Riddick and Jackie alone.

"Why can't wonder-boy help him?" Johns followed her. Riddick kept completely still until the pair were well out of range.

"Paris is busy, that's why," Fry's fleeting voice answered.

"I wasn't talking about Paris…" the howling overtook the sounds of the conversation, leaving Jack and Riddick alone in the dark. It didn't escape either of them that Fry, in spite of whatever personal fears she held, was once again stepping in to draw Johns off the trail. Richard pulled his savageness back under control, having kept his bargain with it and gotten the answer it wanted. Well, close enough to make it easy to lock it back away. The primitive side had made a point… one that could not be ignored. He desired far more from a woman than he'd ever admitted to himself. For some reason he'd never seen it before now. He was not sure he liked the knowledge of it. He'd likely never find another like her if he let her go. His heart filled with conflict. How could he force her down his path?

She felt him change, like shields sliding into place. Jackie almost wanted to tell him not to lock everything back up. 'What did he show me? Surely not something he lets everyone see.' She felt like crying. That short moment had been special in some very important way, one not fully revealed, and Jackie was lost now, like the rug had been pulled out from under her. Confusion enveloped her soul as she felt Riddick let go of her. "Please, don't leave me," Jackie whispered.

The ex-ranger put some space between them before he heard her shaky plea. He was sure she'd run, but… He shifted back to look at her. Her face was so open, every shred of pain she'd ever felt etched into it. He met her amber eyes with a mask-like expression. He needed her to be strong now. 'See, you are hurting her,' Richard mentally scolded. 'No. She wants,' the beast answered. Her expression tore him up inside. He staunchly took the pain for a moment. She needed him. The internal conflict finally gave way as he shook his head slowly; "We gotta get the rest of the light-tubes together, Jack. You and me. I'm not leaving."

She sniffled and swallowed, "Yeah." It took her a long time to blink back the tears. Riddick grabbed her hand and guided her to the unlit tubes in their section. His touch infused her with strength enough to face whatever might be coming. It was almost as comforting as his holding her had been back in the settlement after Ali died. She decided that now was as good a time as any to tell him about her plan. So while they worked collecting all the fiber optics at that end of the ship, Jackie quietly told Riddick the idea she had to switch his picture and biodata with that of the stranger that Zeke had killed. Physically, the two men were very close. It wouldn't be a difficult swap. He knew that if she had gotten the skills to hack into the guild database on Sigma 3 then likely she could hack into it with Johns' link. Likely Carl Johastein ran a tighter ship and better sealed security than the blue-eyed devil had even thought about. Jackie and Fry amazed Riddick again once he heard that the docking pilot was providing the means to transfer the data the plan required. He doubted that it would work, but hell, it was worth trying to keep the two of them alive for.

It was slow going as they worked their way back to the light. Jackie noticed a slight change in the air as they moved back toward the others. "Ah, there they are now, the Wonder Twins," Johns said with sarcasm. He could sense that there was something different about how the boy reacted to the con. He couldn't say exactly what it was, but there was something. He eyed Jack over, trying to figure out what it was that looked different about him. The boy's eyes… had he been crying? Johns scowled. Riddick gave him a warning look before unloading Jackie's bundles until she could take them off herself. Then he removed his own burden. The difference in the air gnawed at the teen's consciousness demanding her attention. She just couldn't figure it out yet. Her eyes swept over to the muscular man who's face concealed his every thought. But his head tilted to the side, like he noticed it too.

"Stow it, Johns." Fry was just about out of patience with his wisecracks. Both of them were holding a power cell so that Imam could connect it up to the converter already installed in the sand-cat. Jackie sniffed the atmosphere. No, it was more like she tasted it, drank it in, experienced it even. The air was colder, surely. But there was something else, a fresh dirt-like smell. Wet. She looked at Riddick who was watching her. There was no doubt. They both knew. Rain. It was going to rain. The atmosphere must have cooled suddenly enough for all the moisture to be too much to hold. How much time did they have? Minutes, perhaps… Jackie swallowed. Would the open flame work in rain?

Riddick was wondering nearly the same thing. Only he knew that the factor as to if the open flame would work or not depended on how heavy it was raining. His ears caught the first sounds of patters on the metallic hull. Big drops, he noticed. Time the rearrange the plan. A sudden shuddering, colossal, pounding echoed across the upper ceiling amplified by the empty space over their heads. He waited for a second to see if it was a single sheet of heavy rain or a true downpour. The noise didn't stop. He tightened his face slightly as he fought back the feeling that everything was lost. The others were looking up as they listened to the new noise. Well, everyone but Jackie who was watching him and Paris who was walking over like he was the only one to have figured out what was going on, "Um, guys. I think we have another problem." He glanced around at them all and sighed, "It's raining. It's raining hard."

"No shit? Just wonderful." Johns grumbled.

"Mr. Riddick, if this is to work we must shield the rain and the splashes off the power cell. The old cover alone is not tall enough." Imam had seen Riddick's shiv. If anyone could shape metal into the right form for the function necessary, Riddick could. The big man nodded.

"Jack, grab a torch. I need your help."

"Now wait just a fucking minute. Why do you need the kid's help?" Johns lashed out verbally but didn't let go of the cell. He didn't like this. Suddenly Riddick and Jack couldn't be separated. Imam didn't seem to care. Fry, if she was bothered by it, was too busy to worry. Had it been that case that he no longer needed the docking pilot he'd drop the power cell on her fingers just to hurt her, but he required her hands to fly the skiff… Johns mentally figured that all he needed to survive this was Riddick, Fry and himself. So how would he get rid of the sheik? More to the point, how would he off the kid?

Riddick looked at Johns for a heartbeat. Something was not right about his body language. He would not let Johns win again. Not this time. He tossed out an insult meant to sting with its truth, " 'Cause, Johns, your _hyped_ hands shake too goddamn much." Then, as he began to move away, he patted the Arabic youth on the arm, "And Suleiman is gonna put the light on the 'cat. Right, Suleiman?" The pilgrim nodded. "Paris, get your ass in gear and help him. Your reward is that you get to drink what we were gonna burn." The paste-complexioned fellow started out of his despair, and nodded too. Internally, Riddick grunted in satisfaction. Finally people were gelling into a survival unit. Johns scowled at the ex-ranger's back as the large man moved off on his assigned task. Paris looked at the remaining youth, and the two of them begin figuring out something to use the optic cable on the sandcat.

Jackie snagged the second cutting torch off the pile of light that they had gathered. If the homemade lamps weren't gonna work in the rain, they had that much less light. It was a bad sign. She shivered as she followed Riddick's broad back into the worse area of the twisted hull. The light-tubes had not been fully removed here yet but they could see the downpour and only the dim glow separated them from the hunger that circled outside. Riddick carried the clear dome. He hunted for a section of metal that could be worked into a tube of the same size. After nearly giving up, he located what he was looking for. "Torch." Jackie handed it to him. Riddick carved out a perfectly squared section. He shut off the torch and handed it back. "Hand me that bar." He pointed. Jackie fetched it. She watched as he smoothly worked the metal into a self-catching cylinder, holding the torch adjusted just so that the metal could be easily shaped and pounded into position. Then he moved off to find some patching foam, the kind used to seal leaks to keep the ship from sinking should it land in water. Jackie could hear him; it was not so very bad she guessed, to be just a little alone. Riddick made her ache. Not real bad, but hell, he was the only person aside from Shazza that she'd ever felt safe with, and was saying something. He came back to Jackie with a tube of the stuff he'd been looking for in hand. They returned to find the sand-cat had a roof of sorts, one woven of light courtesy of the miles of fiber optics that they had collected.

Fry slid out from under the 'cat, "I got the bottom panel back on, but I'm not sure about the seal. Oh," she stopped as Riddick held up the tube of foam, "That'll work." He tossed it to her. Jackie looked around. Johns was gone again.

Paris rounded up several boxes that he fit over the power cells in the back of the cat. They could at least have seats. The two light units were being bolted into the floor. Riddick verbally cornered the art dealer. "You panic and I'll slit your throat before you exit the vehicle, got it?" The man's eyes grew wide, "Don't make me tie your ass down."

Fry watched. Somehow she felt detached from the situation, like Riddick was not really threatening Paris. "We got the cable, Want it loaded?"

"What? You actually agree with him?" Paris was more than a little alarmed.

Imam offered, "I will sit on him, if you think that will help."

"Sure, Father." Riddick was busy shielding the power cell with it's new, hopefully waterproof, cover. "Don't forget to seal this up here too, captain."

Jackie loaded up the hand-lights. Imam made sure all the breathers had fresh tanks and that all the extra ones were loaded in the 'cat. He looked at Jack and put a reassuring had on the boy's shoulder. It was nearing time to go. Riddick was driving; at least that's how it seemed to everyone. So much so that the underside of the roll-cage over the driver's seat was lined to block the light that would hinder his vision but was so necessary to protect his head. Riddick noted it with a grunt. All or nothing. Fry finished up the sealing job around the seams of the cover. For a second everyone except Johns just stood around the sand-cat. Imam finally said, "I tested it, the engine does run. Mr. Riddick," he paused, "we place our lives in your care, but God will protect us. Shall we pray?"

Riddick looked at him, saying nothing. The holy man took it as an okay. The rest of the group prayed. Jackie looked at Riddick, stealing a glimpse. 'Yeah, if we survive, God'll have nothing to do with it,' she concurred with his silent assessment.

Fry wandered off to find Johns. She located him alone on the upper level wasting his flashlight power by sitting in the dark. He was playing with one if the red shotgun shells, running it through his fingers. She stood on the ladder and looked at him. If there was anyone she wanted to leave behind it would be him, but she vowed that anyone alive when they reached the skiff would get off this rock. Even if she hated them. She watched him as he pondered the potent morsels of Morphine inside the red tube. Their words echoed back to the group. "Are you ready Johns?"

He knew she was there. The opiate had not quite settled in yet. He was getting too accustomed to the stuff. Each spike was lasting a shorter amount of time. Then again, maybe it was stress. He finally raised his head slightly, "Yeah." He had to try to convince her one final time… He'd kill her to keep his bounty money, unless she fell into line with him. "But he just gonna drive us off the first cliff, you realize that don't you?"

Carolyn had made up her mind. She could care less about Johns' opinion of Riddick. They had to survive this somehow, and the man with the luminous quicksilver eyes was their best chance. It was a simple fact that Riddick needed those power cells to leave just as much as she did, so he'd screw himself over to kill them? She really doubted it, but the merc was hyped beyond reason so there was no sense in arguing the point with him, "Look, we're just wasting light here."

"You give him the cells and the ship and he will leave you all out there to die. He'll leave all of you."

The docking pilot blinked at the redheaded man completely flabbergasted. "I don't get it, Johns! What is so goddamn valuable in you life that you're worried about losing? Huh? Is there anything else besides Riddick that you think about? Is there anything at all?" She just couldn't hold it in anymore. The man was obsessed. Johns just looked blankly at her with no reply. She stewed for a instant, turned and began heading back down the ladder before adding, "Besides your next spike--"

Johns fumed until he realized that his shotgun light was all the light he had, that Fry had taken the coil of optic cable down the ladder with her to add to the 'cat. He clenched his jaw, loaded his gun's chamber, and swore under his breath, "It's a death run, bitch. And Riddick is the bellwether."

Fry came back to the group carrying the last coil of optic cabling. She set it inside the 'cat. Riddick had opened the cargo door, revealing the rain. "Check your cuts, these bad-boys know our blood." People scattered to the medkits, including Jackie. Riddick's gaze followed her. He stayed where he was. 'Damn, surely those things can still smell her,' he had to get her through this. He found himself working over what could hide a blood scent. Not damn much. Certainly not what they had. He'd just have to make sure she was shielded. Soon Jackie rejoined him at the door. They looked out at the sheet of water. Johns joined them shortly and realized that Riddick was in fact driving, just by how they'd shielded the light from the front of the 'cat. Riddick steeled himself. If it didn't work all they had were a handful of flashlights and some flares. He looked at everyone, picked up one more box, set it over the cover he'd made, and rumbled, "Load up."

"So we are really gonna do this?" Paris asked. Fry raised an eyebrow at him and nodded. Everyone scrambled for seats. Riddick watched as Jackie settled in between Fry and Imam. Johns, Paris, and Suleiman settled in behind them. Paris found himself in the rear middle position across from Jack. He felt exposed.

Fry zeroed in on his worry. "Just stay inside the 'cat's light, and don't panic. That's all we gotta do to live through this thing." Fry told him sternly. The merc had his firepower and the pilgrim had his faith… but all Paris had was Riddick's threat to keep him still. He forced back his terror and picked up a couple of loops of extra glowing cable that he draped over his body. That, along with a hand light in each sweaty palm, made him feel somewhat safer.

Fry watched him for a moment. She was amazed at how alike Paris and Johns were in spite of their differences. 'Self-obsessed assholes, both of them. Totally staggering,' she thought as she settled into her side seat behind the modified power source for the engine. She glanced over at Riddick who was watching the rain like he was making his own deal with whatever higher power he believed in before walking over and sliding into the driver's seat.

Johns flipped on the light attached to his gauge. Imam and Suleiman pulled out their prayer beads and readied their hand lights. Riddick turned on the sand-cat and guided it out into the rain. He couldn't run it fast, there was too much mud already. And he'd have to locate the cliff of the bone-yard and travel the edge of it to avoid any flash floods. It was a longer route, but likely safer. Jackie and Fry added beams of light to the others that waved out the back and sides of the cat, slicing into the darkness at random. Within seconds everyone was drenched. The inhuman sounds echoed through the night as the glowing vehicle inched its way back to the settlement. Riddick knew the way. Even in the dark, even in the rain, he knew. The 'cat set off away from the crash like a giant, crawling, glowing insect. Fry figured that the trip might take them an hour. A slow count to 4000 would last longer, right? She began a mental count.

The sheet-like precipitation seemed to provide the alien predators with no small measure of protection from the meager greenish blue light that formed a fragile glow around the seven people in the sandcat. The noise was just as relentless. At the edge of the dim circle large hammerheads gyrated barely visible. The sounds were unhinging Paris, slowly working into the man's fragile mind, fraying his nerves. The fact that the creatures kept pace with the sandcat like something was beckoning to them, an exotic siren's song that he couldn't hear, and the pounding rain didn't help matters. His world began to close down on him, reducing itself to pitch black, razor sharp death. Breathing became hard. He was gasping like a fish out of water. The vehicle was moving much too slow… He fought it back, clutching the light in his hands and waving erratically at the largest predator he could glimpse. Riddick had warned him about panicking. His selfishness came to the surface. He looked at Imam and Fry who sat to either side of Jack. The three of them seemed to have far more cover than he did.

Carolyn sat on the passenger side of the 'cat, behind the battery-box. She turned to look out the front away from Paris' accusing stare. The rain danced across the metal surface of the extra shield that Riddick had placed over the plexi-cover. The rain was coming down fast, hard, and steady. She scanned the darkness for any landmarks. Her count had reached 1000. Surely they were getting close to the hills by now? Even with the 'cat going slower because of the mud there should be some sign that they were heading the right direction. So where were the pillar-like formations that they'd come through before the darkness fell? She saw no sign of them. "Riddick? Where are we? Shouldn't we have reached the hills by now?"

Riddick carefully chose his words; slowly answering, "Saw something I didn't like…" the sound of his voice hung in the air. Jackie twisted to look at his face.

Johns leveled his light at the back of Riddick's head. "Such as?" He demanded from the back corner of the 'cat.

"Hard to tell, even for me, sometimes. But it looked like a bunch of those big boys chewing each other's gonads off. Thought we should give it a swerve," the deep voice was surprisingly sensible sounding as it floated through the rain. Jackie nodded. She trusted Riddick to get them there. It was the rest of the group she had doubts about.

The idea that they had to avoid a large blood-frenzy unnerved Paris to the point that he could no longer sit where he was as the hungry creatures from attempted to snag someone out of the sand-cat. If the constant swooping and diving of hatchlings that burned themselves on overexposure was not bad enough, big hammerheads eating each other were definitely more than the art dealer could handle. "Can we switch?" He whined at Fry.

"What?" The docking pilot was shocked that he'd even ask. Switching meant stopping the trek and getting out. "Switch, now? No. I'm not getting out to trade places with you out here." She could see that they were being followed. The largest creatures were staying just on the edge of their light.

"But I don't think I can take anymore of this back here…" All eyes were on him at this point and at least two sets wore looks of disgust. "Just for a few minutes?"

"Shut the fuck up, Paris!" The command came from the driver's seat. "All the positions are the same, so just sit tight or I'll solve the problem in a lethal fashion. Got it?" But the distraction was enough for Riddick to take his eyes off the gloom in front of him for a second too long and by the time he looked back there was a very large hammerhead planting itself in their direct path. "Hold on!" He barely had time to warn everyone before he made a sharp turn around the massive creature throwing everyone to one side. The creature gracefully turned on a limb and let out a swipe with one sharp clawed paw as Johns fired out a warning shot.

Paris nearly leapt out of his seat and into the gloom, but Imam caught his foot. The hammerhead edged closer aiming to make a meal out of someone. Riddick tried to ignore the commotion in the back as he attempted to get them some distance from the very real threat the aggressive creature posed. Johns took aim and fired again into the gloom. The creature let off a horrid wail before rushing the rear of the 'cat and impacting it enough to send the antique dealer cartwheeling out the back. Both of his hand lights shattered on impact. Imam felt Paris' shoe slip from his fingers and hastily joined Jack in holding the cable that was wrapped around the man's body. A terrified sound slobbered out of the darkness as he hit the mud behind the vehicle. Suleiman trained his hand light on Paris' muddy form. Riddick stopped the 'cat and Johns leapt out and fired into the murkiness to scare away the creatures. Instead, the lack of movement from the lighted object caused the hammerheads to press closer. Fry leapt out the side of the cat in spite of the large number of voracious killing machines hovering just beyond the glow. She darted around toward Johns and got a blinding look into the barrel of his shotgun before dropping to her knees and tracking the cable that still connected Paris to the 'cat. "Hang on, Fry's coming." Johns told him.

The art dealer scrambled to his feet. Back at the 'cat another hammerhead swooped over the top of the woven shield of light forcing Imam and Jack flat against the metal soaked bed. Suleiman jerked away from the noise by moving to the side and lost his grip on the light he was carrying. It flew off into the murkiness, bounced and rolled in the mud scattering the hammerheads off on the passenger side of the 'cat. The woven light was holding. Johns spun and fired at the creature as it passed overhead, just missing him. "Paris, down!" Fry ordered as another hammerhead appeared out of the sky heading right for him. Instead of dropping, he turned and looked the direction of the sound made by the creature's leathery wings and got knocked flat on his back in the mud by the impact of it's head against his chest. He let out a gasp as he flew. Johns zeroed on the second creature and fired off two shots in rapid succession… that further spooked Paris into a state of total, unreasoning terror. Perhaps he sensed that Johns was just as bad as the hunger that swirled around him, or perhaps the infernal alien cries of the native creatures had finally, totally broken him. Whatever the reason, Paris ignored Fry and begin to crawl further away from the others. "This can't be happening…It can't be…" he mumbled as he fled away from the manic with the gun.

"Paris! Get back here!" Fry hollered. Riddick pulled his shiv, turned and reached past Jack for the cable in her hand. He'd cut it before he'd let Paris leave them all without light. The merc took up the cable with one hand and began to follow it out into the rain. He had the same idea. Once he reached Fry he fired on the cable severing it. "Johns!" The noise in the darkness was getting to Johns too. He suddenly lost it, firing multiple shots out in the direction Paris was last spotted. "Stop it," Fry screamed as Johns spent too much of his precious ammo on ghost targets, "STOP IT!" The merc finally stopped as the gauge clicked empty.

Paris found himself without light. "This can't be happening… It can't be…" he mumbled like a chant. His glasses were gone. The sounds of heavy wings cut through the rain. He let out a scared wheeze and looked toward the noise; partly aware the creatures were surrounding him and cutting him off from the others. No sooner did that register than did he feel something slice deeply into his back. He arched up as the cable fell away. Morbid curiosity made him reach for the area. His hand came away covered with thick, warm blood. His blood. In spite the precipitation he managed to get his lighter started, and he stared at his hand with the rain slowly washing it down his arm. "Oh, my god," he whispered, "I was supposed to die in France. I never even saw France…" His next thought was to face his killers eye to eye, at least for a moment.

Fry, Johns, and the others saw a fireball of light appear in the wet darkness, marking the antique dealer's final act of defiance. It highlighted a horde of large hammerheads that moved back only slightly. Jackie looked at Riddick as the docking pilot and the merc walked back to the sandcat. "Well, it's good to see you're all okay." Johns said dryly as Fry retook her seat. She noticed that Riddick was still staring intently out toward the sounds of savage feeding.

"Do I even wanna know?" Fry asked. He didn't answer her as he watched a group of adult hammerheads fight over the ravaged body. Once that was gone they turned on each other in a fit of frenzied feeding. Not even maternal instinct applied to these fuckers, he noted as a female snatched a hatchling off her own back and begin gnawing it down. Finally Carolyn had to ask, "What do you see, Riddick?"

"Hunger." Riddick let his hand brush Jack's as he turned back to the task of driving. They had lost 3 hand lights, tens of meters of lighted cable, and Paris. Riddick begin guiding the 'cat along the path he'd walked earlier when he trailed the group to the bone yard. Jackie twisted around to look out the front. She couldn't see much past the sheets of rain. Fry sank down on the floor next to her. Imam began to go over his prayers again. Johns scooted Suleiman over until the two of them were evenly positioned.

Fry had restarted her count at 1000 and was now at 2200. They should have reached the bone yard by now. As she expected, Riddick guided the sand-cat up the hill that marked the beginning of it. The lights were getting dim. "Can we go faster?" she asked Riddick. He shook his head as he eased up and scanned the edges.

Suleiman made a comment in Arabic before Johns confronted the driver, "Wanna tell me what the hell's going on?" Riddick backed the 'cat up and turned to follow the crest toward the canyon. He stopped again. The creatures were fighting up ahead, going through whatever bit of biology that was triggered by the rain. 'Mating, likely. I'm not sure they'd go for us blazing through.' The observation made him rethink the danger of the canyon floor.

"Why did we stop? Are we lost?" Imam leaned over.

"Listen." Riddick stared ahead at the mass of moving, frenzied life ahead of them. How could they not hear the screeching, the head slamming, and the echoing horror of death up ahead of them?

"Do you even know where we are?" Imam demanded.

"Listen!" Riddick ordered. Everyone craned his or her senses out into the darkness. Jackie heard it… sounds of inhuman mating. She looked at the docking pilot whose face slowly registered the noise. '…Like wild dogs fighting for mates…' she thought. Imam heard it now too. His face reflected the new concern that the knowledge brought with it. Johns set his jaw. "Canyon ahead. I need some time to think."

"I think we should go now." Imam replied.

"Oh, I don't know about that." He could smell blood on someone. But who? "That's death row up there, no matter how I approach it." Just then the sound of rushing water eliminated the second option of the canyon floor. "Especially with one of you bleeding."

"What?" Imam looked around.

"What the fuck are you jaw-jacking about. No one's bleeding back here." But someone was. Suleiman had cut his hand when he'd gotten hurled against the sandcat's side and lost his light. Riddick spotted an overhang and eased the 'cat into it. "Why are we stopping?" Johns demanded.

"Check your fucking cuts." Riddick ordered as he shut the cat off and got out.

Imam began looking everyone over. Jack first. The boy was clear. He looked over Fry. She was fine. Then Johns. The merc had no cuts either. Finally he looked at Suleiman. A deep gash ran across his palm. Imam took off his turban and began wrapping the youth's hand with a frown. After waiting a moment, Riddick plucked Jackie out of the vehicle and walked her to the depths of the overhang. Johns followed them. He noticed several large hammerheads alight on the top of the embankment just out of the reach of the dense glow. The predators were not just after Suleiman. He narrowed his eyes and moved to confront the con. "Want to tell me why those fuckers are after the boy, you shit-ball bastard?" He cornered Riddick with the gauge. "What you do, fuck him up the ass, trash-baby?"

"Leave Riddick alone!" Jackie rushed to his defense without thinking. Riddick shuffled Jackie behind him. "Asshole!" Jackie spat at Johns.

Imam, finishing up with Suleiman's hand, and Fry, standing toward the inner edge of the light, were both watching. The docking pilot looked over at the holy man and his pilgrim. This was not good. Had she made a grave mistake? Imam spoke to Suleiman in Arabic softly and set him behind the driver's seat where he'd be the most protected. Then the dark-skinned man moved over to the escalating confrontation between Johns and Riddick sensing that this was a deadly dispute.

Johns leveled his gun on the ex-ranger's chest. "No," Riddick said softly. It was impossible to tell if he was speaking to Jackie or Johns or both.

"Please, this solves nothing," Imam told them in an attempt to defuse the building anger.

"Why then are they after Jack? Huh, you shit-faced mother-fucker! Give me an answer, or I'll ghost you right now!" Johns ignored Imam's plea.

Something inside Jackie cut loose. No way was she going to let Johns kill Riddick. The protectively fierce side of her seethed to the surface. It erupted with a trail of obscenities that by any right would have made a normal 10-year-old's ears bleed. The venom in her voice momentarily stunned Riddick. His own inner beast knew now, though, that she had made her choice and had accepted its overture. The merc didn't even blink at the string of vulgarity coming from the kid that was struggling to rush him in spite the fact that Riddick was holding 'him' back. How did the con manage to inspire such loyalty?

Fry, however, felt like her ears were blistering. Where had Jack learned such foul language? She moved closer to the situation, aiming to assist Riddick in hauling Jack away from the deadly tension that the merc clearly posed. Before she could reach them, Jack twisted, displaying greater agility than anyone thought possible, slipped free from the barrier that Riddick had put up, and threw herself towards Johns. She was going for those ice-blue eyes…

Johns sensed the child moving toward him and whipped out his nightstick from his leg holster. He didn't dare move the gauge from Riddick's chest. The merc raised his black lacquered club to catch Jack before the boy reached him— And discovered that just the sight of the weapon caused the child to recoil against Riddick's legs with the suddenness of being actually hit. He froze with a sadistic grin on his face.

"You better not even be thinking of hitting _her_ with that, Johns…" Riddick voice held a menace that made tough men's blood run cold.

Fry echoed, "Her?" She was floored. She glanced over at Imam to see the same shocked expression she was wearing. Suddenly, the predators on the overhang above them made sense. Jack was menstruating. No wonder Riddick was trying to protect her. Fry moved over behind the two men toward Jack's curled, muddy, form.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Johns was looking at Jackie's twisted form. He wavered a bit with the gauge. Riddick stepped forward, over Jackie, putting her safely behind him. Johns tightened the aim under Riddick's chin.

Riddick stared the Merc down; "Fucking put away the nightstick before I break the hand holding it."

Something finally clicked in Johns mind, Riddick was gonna kill him if he didn't put the club back in its holster never mind the gauge under his chin, "Okay," he backed down, lowering the gauge too.


	11. Devil's Due

Devil's Due

Only after Johns had put away his nightstick did Imam breathe again. The tension of the screeching oppressive darkness, their fragile light, and the conflict between the merc and con grated on even his nerves. Yet he was used to playing the soothing calm persona among chaos. Noticing that Jackie remained in her curled position on her side in the mud until Fry put a hand on her back with a concerned "Honey, are you really bleeding?", he set his resolve.

All Jackie could do was nod numbly. She was so scared, 'What if I made the wrong choice by not saying anything?' She was shaking with the cold. "It's okay, sweetheart. It's okay…" Fry hugged her as she sat up out of the mud.

Imam followed Johns as he edged away from the others. In his drug-hazed state the merc was working through a plan to get himself and Riddick on that skiff, preferably alone. The girl had to go. He had to talk to Riddick without the others overhearing. "Okay, I over-reacted. I mean I knew something was not right about the kid," he was telling Imam. "I just didn't realize it was that she's a girl. How the fuck was I to know?" Imam just nodded. Part of his duty was to take confession, but he did not have to agree with, or like, the person giving it.

Riddick decided that as long as the light was keeping the creatures at bay they could at least recoup here. He fished out the rations and motioned for Suleiman to follow him. Fry watched them approach. "Look, I don't think this is gonna work. I doubt we have enough light. There's 9 bottles of spirits back at the crash, if it would just stop raining…" She hated giving up, but… "We're gonna have to go back. I made a mistake, Riddick." Riddick crouched down next to them. Imam drifted that way too. Riddick just handed her a ration stick and shook his head.

But Johns had heard her, "What did you say?" He began to walk up to them and pointed at Fry with a threat filled look on his face. "You're the one who got us out here in the first place."

"I was wrong. I admit it. Okay? Can we just get back to the ship?"

That pissed him off. Johns shook with fury. Fry, Imam, and the kids were all watching him, slowly eating, looking like a row of drowned rats peaking out of the sewer. They all had to go. Johns grinned his sadistic grin again, "I don't know, Carolyn. Nice downpour, wide-open spaces… I'm starting to enjoy my fucking self."

"What, are you high again? Just listen to yourself, Johns." Fry noted that Johns was acting odd, evilly odd. She discovered that his blue eyes were icy in the dim glow. Shivers rushed through her, shivers of fear.

"No. You're right Carolyn. What's to be afraid of? My life's a steaming pile of meaningless shit anyhow, so I say we go on. The canyon's only a couple hundred meters. Another quarter-hour, at the most, and its skiff city." Johns knocked the food aside that was being offered to him by Suleiman. "So why don't you butch up, stuff a cork in this fucking kid, and let's go."

Riddick watched Jackie's face contort with fear as she tried to force back tears. He stood and moved over to Johns. "We need to figure out how to get the six of us there, Johns."

Johns scoffed, "Leave the girl and the rest of us will make it."

"Not an option, I'm not leaving anyone here with those fucking things," Fry resisted the madman in front of her.

"She is the captain. We should listen to her." Imam jumped into the verbal fray.

"Listen to her? When she was so willing to sacrifice us all." Johns focused an accusing look on the docking pilot.

"What is he talking about?" Jack looked between them confused.

"This does not help us." Fry countered.

"During the crash, she tried to blow the passenger cabin, tried to kill us in our sleep." Johns took sadistic pleasure in answering the girl's question, twisting the knife of a secret deep into Fry's soul.

"Shut your mouth."

"We are fucking disposable. We're just walking ghosts to you--"

Fry rushed him, "Shut your fucking blowhole!" He easily flipped her to the ground as she tried to attack him. Fry's landing was punctuated with a muddy, squishy, splash. She stayed down, feeling as defeated as Jack did at that moment.

"Fine. Fine! You've made your point. We'll all be scared." Imam moved up to Johns in an attempt to calm him.

"Oh, Carolyn," Johns gloated. "How much do you weigh now?" Imam shot the merc a dark look, one of the darkest ones Riddick had seen him wear on this entire journey. "The verdict's in. The light moves forward." Johns unhooked a percussion flare off his belt and slammed it against his thigh. He was going to scout ahead and see how bad the mating grounds really were. He set off into the rain.

Riddick stood up, Johns was gonna ghost the civilians. He could tell. Just like the last time. "Stay here."

As he walked up Johns paused, "Ain't all of us gonna make it."

Riddick blocked the flare's green light with a hand as he passed Johns, "Just realize that?"

Jackie watched him follow Johns beyond edge of the light. 'What are they doing?' she edged away from Fry to see better. Riddick had positioned himself to draw Johns' line of sight away from the group. "Six of us left." Johns commented. "If we can make it through the mating grounds at the edge of the canyon and lose just one, that'd be quite a feat, huh?"

Fry shifted and Imam put his hand on her arm, "Mr. Riddick said to stay here. Perhaps it is best of we do just that," he whispered to her.

"Yeah," Fry mumbled. She still was on her knees now trying to see what was going on through the rain that separated the four of them from Merc and convict.

"Not if I'm the one." Riddick replied to Johns.

Johns lowered the flare so that the light was not directly in Riddick's eyes, "So, what if you're one of five?" He had two different plans in mind. He'd start with the one that called for a single pre-emptive death first… A set of heavy wings flapping by got their attention. Johns waved the flare that direction.

"I'm listening," Riddick rumbled lowly.

Fry didn't like what she could see. The pair was once again acting like equal partners. She shook from the cold, from fear. Imam tried to assure her, "They are likely talking about how to get us through the mating grounds…"

"Battlefield doctors decide who lives and dies, it's called triage." Johns explained.

Riddick listened with rapt fascination. The merc had it all planned out. And it was something that even the most hardened convicts in any of the worst prisons in the galaxy would shy away from. He should have expected that a child-killer like Johns would come up with something like this… "You kept calling it murder when I did it."

"Either way, I figure it's something you can grab onto." Johns was ignoring the disgust that Riddick was throwing off like sharp danger signals.

"Sacrifice play? Hack up a body and leave it at the start of the mating grounds like a bucket of bait." Riddick offered. 'Yeah the answer was easy when you were real scum.' He mentally added.

Johns grinned sadistically, he liked this part of the plan… it was the best bit of all, "Trawl with it," he whispered, "We got extra cable on the 'cat. We drag the body 40, 50 feet behind us."

"Nice embellishment." Had to hand it to Johns, it was inventive in a sick way.

"Well, I don't wanna feed 'em. I just wanna keep 'em off our scent."

Riddick nearly laughed. Even the most twisted individual he'd met in any slam, Ol' Headhunter, would have a hard time topping this one. Not that a hundred bodies could ever hide the stench of old innocent blood on the merc's hands. "So, which one caught you eye?" he asked as he looked back at the group highlighted under the overhang by the cool blue-green light.

"No, no, don't look." Johns chided. "Christ. What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Imam, lets move closer to the sandcat." Fry suggested. "Just a little more cover there incase something happens." Riddick's glance confirmed her feeling that whatever Johns was saying put them in danger.

"All right, enough of this shit. You do the girl, and I'll keep the others off your back." Johns put the motion on the table. Riddick felt the beast inside well up in anger. Johns didn't notice how the suggestion affected the muscular man. Riddick paced a few feet away from him struggling to get the rage under control. Mistaking Riddick's body language Johns asked, "It's not too big a job for you, is it?"

"What's her name, anyway?" Riddick's beast rumbled in challenge.

"What do you care?"

"I don't" The animal side of him stated flatly.

"Well, then let's not name the Thanksgiving turkey, Okay?"

"Oh, you're a real piece of art, Johns. They ought to hang you in a museum somewhere."

Surprised that Riddick wouldn't cave in, Johns altered the plan slightly, "Okay, I'll do the girl. You keep the others off my back." It would be a perfect payback.

Riddick froze as if rethinking everything. He looked at the merc. "I'm just wondering if we don't need a bigger piece of bait."

"Like who?" Johns wondered. Hell, they could off both the kids and the holy man… He could kill Fry later. Or he could just kill them all now…

Jackie watched Johns flip his gauge up onto his shoulder as he turned away from Riddick. 'Easy shot,' she thought suddenly, then, "Fry, get down!" Johns altered his posture and took aim at the saturated rock above their heads. Imam reacted faster than Fry, whipping his body out and over hers as he pulled her down at the same instant Johns fired. Mud and rock rained down on them covering Imam and Fry. Jackie screamed in fear as much as pain when a large chunk pinned her legs and lower torso down. Through the red glaze of agony she watched Johns got two more shots off showering the four of them in even more mud then Riddick knock the shotgun back into the safety zone. The flare fell forming a separate, stronger, circle of green light. She heard the crack of joints as the weapon hit, skid, and spun finally bathing the struggling men in its light beam as they danced in lethal combat. 'We're all gonna die out here,' she thought as her eyes welled up with hot tears. Riddick threw Johns out into the center of the circle and moved his disjointed arm back into its socket. The darkness inside him was as full of death as the unnatural night surrounding them. He let the beast out and embraced it as he pulled his shiv.

Seeing the blade, Johns flipped his badge off his vest and popped out the hidden cutting edge. 'Bring it on.' He was in his element, and finally he no longer cared about the money. "One rule." Riddick informed him as he sent the badge flying off into the blackness and swung for Johns' throat on the back swing, "Stay in the light." Johns hit the dirt at the edge of the green illumination. Although he was down he was not out… he pulled his nightstick and aimed for the convict's knees. Hearing the large man hit the ground Johns twisted and flung his body at him going for Riddick head with the club. They struggled for a moment as Riddick caught his hand and looked for an advantage. He flipped Johns over onto his back but lost the shiv in the process. They both got to their feet.

Johns regained the nightstick and hammered the con in an already bruised location. Johns grunted with satisfaction as his bounty went back down; he circled and flipped the shiv into his hand with the toe of his boot. The catch was partly concealed by the resulting spray of muddy water. "You always did have a soft spot of kids, Riddick. It's gonna get you killed. Not some day, but this day. And when I'm done with you, I'm gonna find out just how loud that girl can scream."

The threat gave the beast another shot of energy. Riddick lunged at Johns knocking him into the mud, "You are never gonna get that chance," Riddick's voice barely carried through the background noise of the rain. He grabbed the hand with the nightstick and crushed it, shattering bone with a vice-like grip. "Remember that moment?" Johns didn't make a sound. The morphine was still running good. He slashed at Riddick only to find a boot knocking the handmade knife into the dark beyond the wall of light. Johns felt his fingers around the knife make a sickening crunch that might mean they were disjointed. No matter, he popped three of them back into place. Jackie noticed that the light they were in was dimming. Johns went for the nightstick laying right at the edge of the beam. Riddick pulled his second, hidden shiv. "See, Johns—you made fatal mistakes. One, Jackie is mine. Threaten her, and you forfeit your right to live."

"I'll see you in hell, you sick mother-fucker!" Johns reached his nightstick. He turned expecting to see Riddick in the same spot he'd been talking from only to face a dark sheet of water.

"Two, you never should have taken the chains off, Johns." The voice came from another direction; empty by the time Johns spun to face it. Riddick buried his shiv in to the hilt in Johns' sweet spot holding it in place to give the stunned man time to register the cold metal; "You were one brave fuck before." Riddick's breath was hot in Johns' ear. "The gauge – the blue uniform – the chains…" He pulled the shiv up and out as he melted into the rain. Johns fell towards the shotgun, clawing the mud with his one good hand. The gun's light sputtered and faded, the battery finally giving up as Riddick's voice taunted Johns' trip down to the abyss, "I told you to ghost me…."

Jackie passed out.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

She was dreaming. It was the only explanation for how her bed ended up in an ocean, floating in the rain. Her blankets were wet. The ocean smelled of dirt. 'What a messed up dream.' She heard a voice, one her mind associated with a dark-skinned bearded man, "Where is Johns?" It echoed. 'Who cares?' She wondered, 'Johns shot at us.' Her mind suddenly remembered where she was. The howling gray monsters with their huge teeth and diamond shaped mouths. The relentless rain. Johns' evil expression. The pale glow of the fiber optics woven into the sand cat's roll-cage. She was not in bed. The weight was not covers but rock and mud. She fought to regain consciousness.

"Which half?" Riddick sounded amused at Imam's question. Jackie felt the weight ease on her legs. Large hands were scooping off the sticky mud and chunks of rock.

"Is she okay?" Fry asked.

"Don't know." Riddick was guarded again.

Imam asked, "Are you?"

"Yeah, we three got mud and water, Imam. Jackie got hit with rock."

Jackie felt like her entire body had been through a wringer. She groaned as she forced her eyes open. She found Fry hovering over her head. She looked odd upside down. Riddick was checking her unburied legs for breaks. Everything seemed okay there. "Move your toes, Jack," he ordered. Jackie wiggled her feet. Riddick turned his attention to her pelvis, where he'd found the largest rock. The bone seemed solid.

"I think I'm black and blue, guys, but nothing's broken." Jackie attempted to be cheerful. Her entire body hurt but it was all bruise-pain. She knew what broken bones felt like and the pain was very different from this.

"I'm gonna pick you up and put you in the 'cat, Jackie. Cover yourself with light tubes." Riddick waited for a nod. After Jackie realized he wanted a go-ahead she nodded. God, it hurt to be moved; it hurt too much, something was really wrong. She tried to breathe normally. Imam, Suleiman, and Fry followed Riddick back to the sand cat. "I'm gonna go fast. Just keep the light over you. That goes for everyone." He placed Jackie into the center seat. Suleiman and Fry flanked her, pulling coils of light up over the three of them. Imam took the remaining back seat. They were all so muddy; it was hard to tell anymore what colors their clothes were.

Riddick started up the 'cat again. It still ran. The area ahead would claim someone, he was sure of it. Jackie groaned softly from the back. He tightened his face and eased the sand cat into a faster pace. The mating grounds were a kill-zone. They were gonna lose people. He just hoped that one of them would not be Jack.

"Lights up," Fry ordered. Everyone assumed positions with their hand light facing out into the gloom ahead. The creatures were bolder in the mating grounds. The swooping got closer and closer as the young males attempted to secure meals to impress potential mates. One finally hit the glowing light tubes, severing them, killing the overhead light and making a huge hole in the makeshift roof. The hand lights drove it back. Only the fact the Riddick had undone half of the cables for them to cover themselves with saved them any light at all. The onslaught didn't end there. Fry centered herself on the side, back to back with Imam, sweeping her hand light through the rain. It was Suleiman who spotted the large hammerhead diving for the group. Unsure of the creature's target he brought his light up, catching it in it's scarred face. It occurred to Suleiman that the light was not pushing this one off, and that its talons were aimed just past him. He flipped over, spotted Jack, and threw himself over her. It shielded Jack but left Suleiman defenseless with his back exposed. Everything happened so fast that Imam barely had time to think about it before he was gone into the darkness. "Suleiman!" Imam screamed. Then they were past the mating grounds, and they still had a ways to go.

Riddick ran the sand-cat at a gathering speed, slowly working up the momentum until they were at full speed. They flew the distance down the canyon, the creatures ahead of them scattering in outrage at the disturbance. They were smaller here, and those who got too close lit up and burned. Jackie could hear the rushing water flowing opposite to their path. By the sound of it they had reached the narrow part of the canyon. More hatchlings buzzed them, wave after wave, finally giving way to larger and larger creatures as they neared the secondary nesting grounds. The hammerheads seemed more intent here on eating each other than them. The blue gore mixed with the mud. Jackie found herself throwing bits of hammerhead out into the night as chunks fell on them. One landed on the roll cage, dead. Imam and Fry moved to heave it off. It oozed over the front and Riddick ran over it in his haste. The creatures never reached the largest sizes, but topped off at man-sized. Any stupid enough to challenge the oncoming boxy shape were smashed under its wheels. Most flew up above them. A few scattered to the sides.

One clawed the 'cat and Fry kicked it violently with her boot. "Are we almost there?" Fry noticed the clawing had cut the tubing on her side. She grabbed a flare and set it off. "Please tell me we are almost there."

Riddick slowed the vehicle; "There's a sheet of water flowing into the canyon ahead. I don't know how deep it is. A lot of them are at the edge, drinking." Riddick whispered. If Fry's seal job was faulty, this would kill the 'cat. Just beyond that was the row of hills that sheltered the settlement from the flow of water. Riddick guessed it was only short distance. He took a deep breath, "Imam, pray." He didn't believe that God necessarily wanted to help them, but it couldn't hurt at this point. He steeled himself and eased the 'cat toward the water. The creatures scattered on the near side. Riddick eased the cat into the shallow sheet. There was no bank, nothing to catch the water and channel it on this side. But as they pressed on the flow deepened and the current caused the vehicle to slide. He angled it into the flood and pushed on. The hammerheads resumed their positions and appeared to watch them much as a bunch of alligators might watch a swamp boat cross. The water reached the underside of the 'cat.

Jackie squeezed her eyes closed, "Make it, make it, make it…" she chanted. Fry's green flare sputtered out. She grabbed another one. Water rapidly reached the top of the sand cat's sides and lapped over. Riddick was already up to his waist in water. So far the wheels were still moving. One of the light generators sparked and shut off. They had not thought to seal those. Imam tried several hand lights noticing how weak the beams looked. He handed two of the strongest to Jackie and lit a flare for himself. The second generator sparked and went out. Jackie continued to chant, "make it, make it, make it…"

They were starting to shed water. The cat was nearly across. Riddick put the accelerator all the way down and charged the waiting creatures on the other side, throwing water with the 'cat as he did so. They scattered in confusion. As the group cleared the water, only two weak hand lights and two flares kept the howling death at bay. Riddick angled the 'cat to a gap in the hill ridge. The settlement was meters away. As they entered the first row of buildings several of the creatures swiped at the vehicle's sides. Imam waved them off with his flare. One of Jackie's lights faded. She threw it at an oncoming creature, and it shrieked as the bulb died with a final spark and flash.

They pulled up alongside the tiny ship. Fry tossed her almost spent flare and lit the last one. She hopped out to check the skiff. Within seconds the lights were on. Riddick lifted Jackie out and put her inside in the co-pilot's seat. "Damn, Riddick. Johns must have left the computer inside the main room. That's where he exited from when we left," Jackie managed to shift in the seat.

"What does it look like," Riddick thought he knew but would rather find out for sure.

"About so by so, and this thick. Metallic, with rounded corners," Jackie used her hands to give the size. Riddick nodded. He'd seen it sitting next to the box of blue shells. Johns had carried a box of red shells with them back to the crash. He knew where it was.

Imam flipped the boxes out and grabbed a cell. He was still fully aware of the hungry creatures gathering just at the edge of the skiff's illumination. Fry lifted the boxes of supplies out of the sand cat and carried them inside. Riddick emerged to heft two cells up and into the craft. Imam went back out and threw his dying flare out to drive the creatures off. Fry kneeled down and begin hooking the cells up in a frantic pace after passing her flare off to Riddick.

"Give me five minutes. Should take less. Then get the fuck out of here," he told Fry.

Fry countered, "It'll take at least 15 to run the pre-flight checks. Go on, while we still have light."

Riddick emerged from the skiff. "Imam, I'm going over there." It was a fool's run, but Jackie couldn't get into the database and work her magic with out Johns' link. Imam handed Riddick the last hand light. As he headed out into the darkness, Imam brought Fry the last cell.

Jackie watched the green glow cross over to the main building. Soon the windows seeped the same glow. Riddick exited the building as the flare died. He switched to the flashlight. It too was fading. Jackie couldn't watch, and she couldn't look away. Riddick tossed the light aside as a man-sized hammerhead settled in front of him. In anger, Riddick rushed it, locking his hands over its claws as they struggled. He outsmarted it as he pulled his shiv and quickly gutted it. He hoped that the mud wouldn't render the guild-link unusable. As he bent to pick it up, Fry hit the headlights of the skiff driving off nearly a hundred waiting predators. He passed to the rear of the skiff and showed Jackie his success. He entered and they closed the hatch.

Riddick passed Imam who was waiting at the ramp, "Good prayer, Father." He moved over to Fry. She was in the pilot's seat, running the last check on the main drive. If there was something wrong they were so screwed. _They were not out of the woods yet._ Riddick looked at Jackie, "I'm gonna move you." Jackie looked up at him and nodded. He gently scooped her up and carried her to the back. Jackie tried not to stiffen as the movement sent waves of achy pain through the muscles in her torso. Riddick settled her in a chair near the front and buckled her in. Imam settled in two seats down and pulled out his prayer beads.

Jackie looked Riddick over. Her mind recalled what Johns had threatened and Riddick's response. She sighed. "Riddick, the pocket-'puter is in my thigh pocket. Want to see if it survived?"

To her surprise he turned to Fry, "You still have it?" Fry unzipped a pocket and handed the device back without taking her eyes off the readouts. "We took it off you because we feared it was busted, but except for the case it seems intact." Imam smiled at Jackie. It was a 'God was with us' smile. Jackie smiled back. Riddick was more intent on Jackie's injuries. "You were very lucky, Jack. If you hadn't been leaning that rock would have smashed into your head."

"That thought did occur to me, just before I passed out," Jackie tried to smile again, but her spirit was just about exhausted. Riddick crouched in front of her with his hand resting on the edge of the seat. She wanted him to hold her, but there wasn't the time. He reached up and wiped the last of the dirt specks off her cheek. His face softened. This had been his little Audrey, but now – his feelings swirled. He wasn't related to her, he told himself. And he'd only known her when she was a tot for 18 months ending nearly 12 years ago. He was not much older at the tim then she was now. Out of cryo he was just over double her age, a matter of perhaps a few years was all, but he guessed that with cryo taken into account the gap between them was even smaller. He'd spent a lot of time on ice, nearly five years, and by the looks of it Jackie had been under maybe only the twenty-two weeks. Jackie gritted her teeth. She had no idea what he was thinking. His goggles hid his eyes, and his face was softly blank. She shivered, aware that the clothes she was wearing were soaked to the bone. Clinging to her skin. She tugged her shirt away from her chest. Pain from what had to be one big bruise covering her entire middle made her hiss and try to stay still. Riddick remained statue-like, his thoughts hidden behind an impassive front.

"Okay, buckle in. Everything looks good," Fry announced.

Riddick smoothly stood, still watching her. They were still in a danger zone. Not a time to lose it. He ran a hand under her chin before joining Fry up front.

Jackie gulped air. They had made it. Suddenly she was very tired. She let her body relax into the seat.

"With so much prayer to make up for, I scarcely know where to begin," Imam announced.

"I know where I'd start, Imam," Jackie turned her head and looked at the holy man's hollow expression. He'd lost everyone. She reached out and took his hand, "I'd start by putting in a good word for Suleiman. He was very brave. I should have been the one taken there," she weakly tightened her grip.

"No child. God took him. Your role in the universe must not be played out yet. But you are right, I should start with the dead…."

Jackie managed another tired smile as she heard the engines whine to full power. Exhaustion overtook her and she let her head fall back into the headrest. She was just closing her eyes when everything shut down.

"Riddick! What are you doing?" Fry's panic started Jackie back awake. He had put his hand over Fry's and shut down everything.

"We can't leave."

"What? Why?" Fry was about to tackle him.

"Yeah, can't we just get the hell out of here. Now--" Jackie whispered

"We can't leave," Riddick repeated as the hammerheads suddenly made it known that they were intent on opening the ship up like a tin can to get at them. The thuds were everywhere.

"Allah--" Imam wheezed suddenly fearful that Riddick had decided to show his true colors and become the monster Johns had hinted was there all along.

The skiff rocked and jolted. One large hammerhead pounced on the windshield and smacked its face ridge into the tough clear material. Jackie, Imam, and Fry gasped back. Riddick turned all his fury on the raging hungered _thing _just feet away from his nose, "We really can't—at least, not without saying '_Good Night_'." He flipped the power back on and pulled Fry's hand with the lever under it all the way down, knowing that they'd reduce the population by a tiny but satisfying amount. The creature on the windshield shrieked as the force of the take off pounded it to pieces against the bodies of the hammerheads behind it. Jackie felt her body give into its need for rest as the blood was forced out of her head by the g-forces of the take-off. She let out one last faint sigh as the planet fell off behind them.


	12. Shirah's Touch

Shirah's Touch

The system with three suns and as many planets fell away behind them. The tiny skiff glided through the rings of the outer planet that blocked the twin suns from the world it fled from. The blonde woman at the pilot's controls worked out where the system was based on her memory of what Owens had said during the aborted distress call and the readings she was getting off the tiny ship's sensors. She tried to keep her hands from shaking. The skiff was so old that it would take them days just to figure out which way to go. She shivered from the soaking wet clothing and her own uncertainty. She was a docking pilot, not a navigator. Carolyn shook her head. 'Fuck… how can this man beside me be so calm… how can he just take this in stride? How do I work this damn map?' She let him fly the skiff, as he seemed to have an instinctive understanding of exactly what needed to be done. The holy man in the back quietly chanted out his prayers under his breath punctuated only by the sounds of his beads clicking together. Fry's co-pilot reached over and touched a switch flipping the map into a mode that showed the shipping lane beacons. She blinked at it for a moment and nodded.

Once the skiff had been navigated to the point that it could be slid into autopilot the ex-ranger unhooked from the co-pilot seat. He was wet, chilled, and more than a little frightened. His fear was that Johns had injured Jackie fatally before meeting his own death. Not even the satisfaction of witnessing Johns being torn apart by voracious monsters could shake the dread that he felt at the moment. What if she died? What would he do then? The questions haunted him with an urgency he couldn't ignore. Thankfully, someone had packed blankets and towels. He looked at the tiny, unconscious, wisp of a woman strapped into a back seat, soaked to the bone. She was pale. 'Too pale,' he thought. Her lips showed signs of her system slipping into shock. He pulled the stack of towels down and let them scatter onto the floor. He had to move quickly if he was going to save her. And the first thing he needed to do was to get her out of her wet things and dried off. He picked up a couple of towels off the floor and set them in the next seat over.

Turning her back to the problem of directions, Fry slid her chair back and watched him. Jackie's current appearance worried the hell out of her. She was waxy, and her lips were a smidgen blue. Riddick settled down in front of the girl and reached for her foot. It was clear what he was going to do as began removing Jackie's waterlogged shoes. The docking pilot watched as the first shoe and sock came off. He was unlacing the second shoe when Fry finally spoke up, "Hey, want me --" Watching the big man hover over the girl made the blonde woman uncomfortable.

Jackie was in one of those weird states where nothing worked but her sense of touch and her hearing. She was freezing. Riddick eased the pressure on her feet, getting the wet away from her skin and drying them before wrapping them in the towel. He didn't want the docking pilot near, "No." His voice allowed for no argument. Imam's soaked clothes flapped about wetly as he stood. "Do me a favor, Imam, and drape a blanket up so that Fry can get out of her wet clothes. And you do likewise." She heard towels being passed as she imagined the frown on their faces. But really, Riddick was right, the wet clothes would lead to them all getting hypothermic.

"There are ten blankets here." Imam revealed as he passed two over to Fry. 'One for each of us after Zeke died,' Jackie noted, 'Paris must have packed them.' She heard the sounds of one being unfolded and draped over the crossbars. The metallic clatter near her foot told her that Riddick had placed her shiv on the floor. His hands moved over her flesh, brisk yet gentle, warm and firm as they worked the blood back into her chilled feet. The sounds of wet clothing being shed and shivering reached her ears. While Imam and Fry busied themselves she felt Riddick removing her soaked, cold pants. He gently but briskly dried her legs off, and she felt a warm blanket being placed in her lap. Then she felt Riddick's fingers working the buttons open on her collared shirt. He unhooked the seatbelts and leaned her forward. She goose-pimpled as her face rested on his chest against his wet tank. She could feel his heat under the wet fabric. 'How can he still be warm?' Her teeth would be chattering if she'd had any control over them. Riddick carefully lifted each layer of her shirts off of her only to reveal the bandages flattening her chest. He leaned her back and looked at Imam. Jackie felt metal against her skin. He was cutting the bandages off. 'Fine by me. I don't need those anymore,' she thought.

Someone lifted the blanket-divider, "So, that's why she looked like a boy," Fry's voice.

"Yeah," Riddick was carefully slicing the tight wrapping off. His voice betrayed the fear that he'd find broken ribs under them. The bruises were already discoloring Jackie's skin with a frightening reddish purple tone visible at the edge of the blanket.

"Perhaps I should leave you," Imam moved over to the front. Jackie didn't deserve to have them all standing around gawking at her like she was a freak show. Riddick didn't respond. Fry thumped Jackie's pack down nearby and the blanket fell back into place. Riddick's aura seemed to change slightly again. The shiv he was using neatly finished the job, and he carefully pulled the wrapping off of her. He let out a quiet breath when he saw that she was not burned, scarred, or suffering from broken bones. Before he'd only seen her back. 'Well, Duh!' She thought as she felt his eyes sweep over her, 'Would you hurry, I'm freezing.' Her skin was perfectly smooth except for the faint signs of her being beaten with a nightstick. The marks wrapped around from her back. It made him angry but he could deal with it. He carefully dried her off. She heard him rummaging in her pack after he had pulled the blanket up to her chin. He located a dry pair of panties and a sanitary napkin put the two together in what seemed to be a logical fashion. Next he opened the waste bucket in the corner, gingerly slid the last wet garment off of her, found the string she'd said was there to remove the item no longer necessary, tossed it into the bucket and closed it. Then he worked the dry pair of underwear onto her. Jackie groaned as he lifted her off the seat in the process. Only after he'd made sure she was warming up did he follow suit and remove his clothing and wrap himself in a blanket. He then scooped her unconscious form up and sat down.

Fry must have waited until everything was quiet. Riddick had softened his body into one of the dry chairs with Jackie's apparently sleeping form in his lap. At least two layers of blankets separated them and a third was draped over her atop that. She had stopped shivering and was finally beginning to breathe in a restful fashion much to Riddick's relief. Her skin color was better, but her lips were still too purple for his comfort. He curled his arms around her under the top blanket, willing more of his body heat into her chilled form. The blond woman settled down next to him in the other dry seat. "She really okay, Riddick? Those bruises worry me." He didn't immediately answer. Jackie felt Fry run a hand over her head. "Riddick?"

"What, do I look like a Medic to you?" Anger and despair filtered through his deep rumble. Jackie stirred and twisted at the sound, rousing herself enough to snuggle into his bare chest. The fact that she moved relieved his mind a bit. He eased back again, "I don't know, Carolyn. She's hurt; it could be bad. But I just don't know." Jackie felt everything fade. She was so tired. And finally he was there, like she'd dreamed he'd be for every scary dark night she'd ever had in her entire 14 years of life. His scent enveloped her with a sheath of protection. His warmth eased her bitterness. This was the way it was meant to be. She was safe. She could let go.

It was the last thing Jackie thought before finding herself walking through a deeply shadowed wood. Large, tall trees with thick trunks reached for a hidden sky. The path, wide and well marked, looked like no one had traveled it for quite some time. Large leaves and needles littered the forest floor. Deep greens and rich gray-browns were offset by the occasional bright splash of yellow or red flowers peaking out of the foliage. She was sure she'd never been here before but the place felt 'home-ish', if there was such a thing. Surely, it was more like the home she'd dreamt about than Sigma 3 had ever been. Somehow it was safe here, really safe. Not the fake safe that her disguise had given her.

She noticed that her hair was long again. Honey brown locks that shimmered with their own inner light flowed over her shoulders and down her back. The breeze caught it and fluttered the strands back away from her face. Her clothing was the last thing she had worn only dry. It was an odd combination, really. If this were a dream surely she would have pictured herself in a gown of some sort. She concluded that this couldn't be a dream then. But if it were real… how had she gotten here? Jackie continued to walk, looking at the ancient trees and the glimpses of beautifully clouded sky through the partings of the arching branches high above. It was dim here. Not totally dark, but dim. "Where am I?" she asked out loud, not really expecting an answer. The forest path opened up on one side revealing wild untouched rugged terrain overgrown with plant life. It fell away in a series of cliffs and flatlands surrounded by distant mountains. A soft orange glow bathed the scene from about a mid-morning position through the patchy cotton-ball clouds. It took her breath away, "Beautiful…"

The newcomer was not alone; no one was really alone in these woods. The guardian of this world paralleled the half-breed's path. At one time such a soul would have been rejected, but in times such as these… Some kinship was better than no kinship. Besides, he had not listened… Would she? The young woman looked quite at home here. Her Furyan side became stronger with each passing day. She'd never be pure, but at least she would be fertile, unlike so many of the other survivors. Now, to convince her to return to her harsh life… "Few come here, to Furya, anymore."

A female's voice loomed behind her. It had qualities similar to Riddick's, and it was familiar. '_Run, be like the wind…_' echoed in Jackie's mind as she turned to see a beautiful woman with long blond multi-braided tresses dressed in browns with a touch of burgundy. The figure had a warrior's build and wore a sword on her hip. Yet something in her golden-brown eyes made Jackie immediately accept her as a friend. "Furya?" she asked. The woman swept her hand out to indicate the forest around them. "I'm Jackie, do you have a name?"

"You can call me Shirah. Walk with me." Jackie shrugged and fell into step with Shirah. The pair began to head deeper into the trees. The woman had a wisdom about her that was much older than she looked to be. Apparently part of that wisdom was letting Jackie take in the surroundings in silence as they walked back into the shadowy forest. There were signs of life here, but… it was very quiet. Nothing buzzed. Nothing fluttered… Slowly it occurred to Jackie that there were no animals as they walked deeper into the foliage, or perhaps the animal life avoided where they were heading. She looked at the woman. Shirah's expression was slightly saddened.

The sorrowful look puzzled Jackie for several feet. She decided that she needed some answers. If this was a place then perhaps Shirah had the answers to how and why she was here. She cleared her throat, "Um, how did I get here?"

"You were drawn back home, as all of us are."

"Oh-Kay…" Jackie stopped, "But why?" she planted her feet. Something ahead bothered her. Her heart filled with leaden dread. She eyed the path with a suspicious look. The woman besides her noticed. Clearly, the half-Furyan's intuition was highly developed.

"Please," Shirah indicated the way ahead of them; "Your answers are coming. Or do you not really want to know?" She was saddened that she had to prod things this way, but telling the young woman outright would not serve the purpose of Furya. Only if the mystery were truly deepened would she speak of it with enough conviction to get him to listen. And he was the one that Furya needed right now.

Jackie thought about it. She frowned and began walking again. The forest was taking on a sparser, almost burnt look. Inside Jackie began to feel cold. Her breathing became shallower with each step. The trail ended abruptly at a cliff-face. The view beyond stopped Jackie's heart for a moment. She let out a shocked gasp. Every meter of earth, for as far as she could see, held a grave. Row after row, fading off into the horizon. She turned a shocked gaze to Shirah, "What?" It was all she could say.

"In time, all will be revealed. If you choose to go back and live."

"Go back? You mean -- I'm dead?" Jackie felt her voice quiver.

"No, not yet." Shirah turned and guided Jackie over to a point that seemed to burn with blue flame or energy, hanging in the air. "Look."

The flame filamented into an opening that showed the inside of the Skiff. She could see the blanket draped across the crossbars and guessed that Imam and Fry were on the other side of it. The colors were as real looking as those were around her, only the tones differed as the light at this side was warm and the on the other side was cool. Riddick was holding her body still wrapped in the blanket. She guessed that her clothes were still off as his chest was bare. Several days had passed based on the hair growth on his face and head. She couldn't tell if he'd slept at all, or if he'd eaten. Next to him, peaking out of her pack were the medical supplies she'd snagged back at Conga. He must have given her at least one concentrated nutrient shot based on the packages that she could see torn open. Currently he was leaned in close, goggles up, intently watching a shiv, her shiv, steam up as he held it in front of her nose. His eyes shimmered in the dim artificial lights. His attention was riveted on the signs that she was breathing.

Jackie watched the scene for a time. It was odd, seeing herself from this angle. She couldn't help but to wonder why Shirah wanted her to go back there. Was there a connection between Riddick and this place? Did they share something in common here? There was only one way to find out for sure, and that would be to ask for something. Hadn't Riddick mentioned Butcher Bay? She'd gotten the feeling that he'd gotten some help there. But what type? She stared at those quicksilver eyes. Suddenly she knew. It had been the one thing she wanted to know about from the onset. His eyes. Had Shirah given him his sight? Jackie swallowed. "So, can I get eyes like that? If I go back?"

Shirah laughed. Unlike so many of the others who had come here, this one was fearless, yet totally trusting. She turned Jackie to look at her. "When it is time for you to see, you shall see," Shirah placed her hands to Jackie's temples. "You must accept your destiny. Will you go back to the pain and hardship? Will you keep struggling?" It would be so easy to just stay, Jackie thought. 'When have I ever taken the easy path? Think it was easy pretending to be a boy? Think it's gonna be easy to convince him to take me with him?' Shirah must have read Jackie's thoughts, "He will not leave you, not now. Not unless you push him away. You have the power according to our rules. He is your mate, if you decide he is worthy. Remember that. Remind him of it should you need to. He knows the truth, deep inside. He's always known."

Jackie turned back to the scene through the blue energy. Her eyes fell on Riddick's form and locked there. He looked so crushed. She needed to be there, with him. She felt her heart ache as she watched. She had to go back… Without thinking she walked forward. As she hit the edge of the flaming connection her hair flowed up and out in every direction, catching the energy, burning away, right down to her scalp. She scarcely noticed. All she wanted was to quiet the pain and hurt she saw in his eyes. She reached for his face…and ended up raising her physical hand up onto his cheek. 'Damn, I can't see! Oh, I have my eyes closed…God, how stupid…' Jackie forced her eyes open. Riddick dropped the shiv with the movement of her hand and dropped his head onto her chest as she opened her eyes. Jackie slid her hand up to the location on his head where his goggles normally sat and traced the path formed by the indentation they left from the corner of his slightly damp eye to the point where the band rested on the side of his head with a light touch. She felt his arms tighten her into a siting position, hugging her as he lifted his head. She had no idea what he might be feeling or thinking at this moment and almost expected him to be angered. What she saw in his face frightened yet warmed her.

He felt her stir. Her pulse was getting stronger. It had been nearly 24 hours since she'd moved. Her hand brushed his cheek. Not a moan, not a wiggle, but a reaching out toward him. The touch startled him slightly. The shiv fell from his fingers and clanged across the metal floor. He let his head fall, partly to hide his tears and partly to assure himself that she was really coming around. He felt her hand brush away the moisture at the corner of his eye before playfully tracing the line of the band across his temple. He hugged her before looking at her face. He was so relieved. It was beyond words. He couldn't describe how he felt at this moment. Her eyes fluttered open and met his. She was so beautiful...

"What I'd do?" Jackie's first impulse was to lighten the situation and to give him an excuse to slip back inside the armor he normally wore. She nearly kissed him, but the sound of her voice brought Fry and Imam to the back of the skiff. Jackie noticed two things. One, she had been out long enough for the clothes to dry, and, two, she was totally nude under the blanket she was wrapped in. Riddick adjusted the coverings to provide her with some modesty, tucking the edge under her arm. Jackie dropped her hand to his shoulder. 'God, they all look so worried,' she thought as she studied Fry and Imam's faces. She smiled at them, "So, okay… No need to panic here."

"How do you feel?" Imam kneeled down.

It suddenly struck her that they were acting like she'd been in a coma, like she'd slip back in to it at any moment. She raised an eyebrow, "Fine. Well, a little stiff," She wiggled and stretched producing a side effect that reddened her cheeks, "Um…Sorry. Want me to get up?" Jackie bit her lip and looked at the man still holding her in a loose embrace.

"No."

Fry looked like she was seeing a ghost still. The worry drained the color from her face. Riddick's face and posture idled in his unreadable neutral. Something naughty and more than a bit out of character flashed through Jackie's mind, "Oh. You sure?" She slowly shifted her position. It was instinct that drove her. Something in his expression had been hungered but not for food. The animal inside her understood before she did. Her leg appeared out of the blankets. She felt Fry's gaze drift over it, slowly…rousing a similar tingle as Riddick's body language often did. Jackie flushed slightly more but not with embarrassment.

Fry finally said, "I should check our heading." She exited back to the safety of the pilot's chair.

Imam ignored the potential sexual implications of Jackie's movements, noting only that in the days she had been unconscious her body had begun to bloom into that of a young woman, one of exotic beauty even with her very short hair. Somehow she matched Riddick in that regard. "Are you hungry?"

Jackie's stomach answered for her with a large growl. Unable to contain herself, Jackie burst out into laughter and clutched her middle with her other arm, "Yeah, I guess so."

Fry's seat creaked. "It's good to hear laughter, you know. After so much--"

Riddick might have been a chair for all his visible reaction. Jackie could feel part of him pulsing against her leg, warm even through two layers of blankets. She was actually blushing at how naughty she'd been. She looked at him with an apology on her lips again, but the ex-ranger might have been enjoying how she made him feel for all she knew. She settled back into his chest and looked up at his unreadable face. Her lips tingled… and she bit them to get the feeling to go away. Somehow, impossibly, she knew that he'd been waiting for her to come back to him. She knew that he ached for her to complete something… she closed her eyes and nuzzled his throat. Then, while no one was looking, she lightly brushed her lips against the skin in the hollow of his neck and lightly licked him. He shifted and curled his arms around her. Jackie looked up at him. That was what he'd wanted. She sighed and snuggled her back into his chest; "I could get used to this. Having my own living chair."

"I should drop your smug ass on the floor, girl." Riddick rumbled at her, but his stubble-covered chin rubbed over her head. He made no move to get up. In fact the darkness inside him was rather content at the moment. Not only was she awake, but she had completed the next step. That placed the ritual back on his obligation to fulfill. They had time now… weeks at least, months at most. He would wait until he was sure she was recovered from her injuries.

Imam brought her a can of some meat product and a package of Paris' toast-tips. It was closer to real food than the rations they had. Jackie raised an eyebrow, "A little rich, don't you think?" Imam shook his head. He provided her with a spreading knife and water too. Truth be willing, Jackie would have settled for bland cardboard. Imam and Riddick silently insisted that she eat. The meat was deviled chicken, and resembled a mustard yellow paste with flaked tissue added. She tried not to look at the stuff overly closely. The toast-tips were rye. Ham would have suited them better, but she wasn't gonna complain. As she ate her mind flipped through the steps she needed to do to make the ID switch for Riddick. First step was knowledge of when they would reach the shipping lane. "So did'ya find out where we are?" Jackie asked between bites.

"The Hunter Gratzner was well off the shipping lane. By several weeks. In the skiff it could take us a month to reach the closest one, but it's a sleeper lane. Our chances of getting picked up there are slim, so I angled us to hit the more direct route between Aquilia and Helion. That will take a month and a half. In the interim we are pushing through wild space. I'm having to keep quite an eye on things." Fry lifted the makeshift curtain and tagged it open. "You gave us quite a scare, young lady."

Jackie swallowed her food and shrugged, "Sorry. How long was I out?"

"Chrono shows 3 days, kiddo. Don't do that again." Fry scolded.

"So, we near anyplace called 'Furya'?"

Jackie felt Riddick's muscles ripple. Fry glanced back at her star map; "We were about 2 days ago. The planet moves faster on its orbit than this skiff's engines. It's long out of range now. Supposed to be haunted, according to all the inside lore. No one dares to go there." Fry didn't notice Jackie squeeze Riddick's hand. "When I was growing up there were studies being made about the place. For a long time I was under the impression that people lived there, but by the time I reached second level schooling Furya was an archaeologists' dream. Until rumors started that the place was haunted in my tenth year. Then it kind of dropped out of the news." Fry adjusted the settings slightly as she spoke.

Imam listened silently for a moment then added, "Up until 30 years ago there _were_ people living on Furya. Not many, but a thriving and successful, if isolationist, population. Policies changed five years before something happened there that no one is sure about. Furya was beginning to join with the rest of society, until its voice went quiet." Riddick grunted. "What, Mr. Riddick?"

"Company locusts."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Never mind."

Imam frowned. "Please, explain, Mr. Riddick. I have no intention of judging you based on your perception of the Company."

"Yeah." Riddick pulled Jackie tighter. Fry cocked her head at them. "Company advance team landed on Furya 25 years ago. They discovered that the entire population had been wiped out except for a crippled elderly man and a handful of nearly dead infants. Most of those rescued disappeared, assumed to have died during transit. The old man ended up in a slave labor camp on Sigma 3, as a camp cook. The same camp I found Jackie's mother in…" Riddick's voice trailed off. Jackie curled up in his lap again.

Fry cleared her throat, "So, how do you know about—Oh, you were a guard there." Riddick fixed his luminous stare on Fry. "Shit, Riddick. The Company will grill your ass if they catch you. No wonder you are getting such a bad rap."

"It's not like I'm not guilty, Carolyn. I was taught to kill because it suited their purpose."

"But you are not like Johns, Riddick. He was willing to shoot us all because we stood up for you. It didn't matter to him that you weren't the crazed psycho-fucked killer the Merc guild was passing you off for. I just wish I'd seen it sooner." Fry pushed her body out of the pilot's chair and accepted some water from Imam, "You might not be innocent, Riddick, but you sure as hell are a lot more deserving of life then the scum that Johns turned out to be."

Imam nodded, "You speak louder with your actions than you do with your words, Mr. Riddick. Just the past three days have shown that you possess a certain nobility. Jackie recovered because of your attention."

"Fine, stop already." Riddick sounded annoyed. "Can we please have some time alone here."

Fry smiled and placed a kiss on Jackie's forehead. "Sure. Imam?" Jackie felt the deep vibration that indicated Riddick was not pleased by the docking pilot's actions. But it was clear that Fry did not hear or recognize the ex-ranger's non-verbal warning. The holy man picked up the water and some ration squares and the blanket fell back into place.

Jackie sat quietly for a minute. She just took him in. She was not tired, but he had to be, unless he'd slept with her in his lap. She shifted her body more causing the layers of blankets between them to move. Riddick let the one over his lap slide off so that it covered his knees and legs. Jackie twisted to face him The third blanket fell to the floor and he curled the edge of the one he'd tucked around her breasts more over her back. "What?" she asked. "I never took you for the bashful type."

He reached for the blanket around his legs and pulled it up over her shoulders. "Don't want you to get cold," he whispered in her ear.

Jackie giggled. "Okay." She guessed that Fry and Imam could hear everything. The blankets moving, the seat creaking, their teasing each other. On one hand she didn't care. On the other she did. She was not sure yet where this was going, but she trusted Shirah. Shirah and told her that she had the power in the relationship. 'I'm not a kid. I'm—God, I'm scared. What if he gets taken back to slam? What am I gonna do then? What if the ID switch don't work? What if I don't do this now and never get the chance? What--' Hot tears welled up in her eyes. A sob choked in her throat. She let go of the blanket tucked under her arms and wrapped herself around his neck. He reacted with all the confused concern he could muster after sitting somewhat shocked for several seconds as hot tears soaked into his neck and shoulder. "Don't leave me," he heard her whisper, "Please, don't."

"I can't make promises, Jackie." He tightened up his grip on her as she sobbed harder, "Ah, Jackie. Come on. You can't want the life I'd give you." It tore him apart to say it, but he had to know if he was catching her signals right.

"Yes, yes I can. Yes I do," Jackie pulled back, suddenly angered. "Fuck you, Riddick." She hit him with her tiny fist, surprising him with the power in her arms. His heat increased. "Do you want me or not? 'Cause if you don't Fry does."

"Does she, now?" Riddick purred. He looked Jackie over now that the blanket between them was only separating their lower bodies. Her torso was still marked with yellowish bruises, but that was fading. Her hips seemed fuller, her waist tighter and her breasts had finally discovered how perfectly formed they could become, now that their growth was unhindered. Her body was still changing. "Trust me, I can see why." Jackie hit his chest again, lighter this time but still with energy. He caught her arm, "Listen, you want to hang with me, you're gonna have to learn to hit harder than that."

"Fine, then fucking teach me. I can learn." She twisted her arm in his grip. "Come on, Riddick…I know how this game works, and I already made my choice. I made my choice back at the crash-ship. When I covered for you." She looked into his eyes.

"I'm not gonna leave you."

Fry and Imam heard everything. There really was not much privacy in such a small ship anyway. Fry was worried. The direction things were heading between Jackie and Riddick scared her. Jackie was a good kid. Riddick was a killer. Okay, so state the obvious, he was gonna get her killed, or that was what Fry feared. She had heard what was said about Furya, but it held nothing special to her.

Imam had no idea about Riddick's background, or his age. The man could be in his twenties or his fifties. But Jackie was special. A survivor. Even if she was only half-Furyan as Riddick's tale implied, he had no doubt that she would be more than strong enough to survive at Riddick's side. Imam would have to look over Riddick's record to find his age, but he suspected something, something that could only be confirmed once they reached New Mecca. He heard the two of them dressing.

"What?" Jackie asked as Riddick handed her clothing. "Fine. Want to watch?" Riddick said nothing, but his eyes spoke volumes. She climbed off his lap, carefully testing her legs, trying to ignore the hungry gaze that was lapping at her. Yeah, he wanted her. She slipped on the salvaged clothing. The pants were a bit long and a bit loose, but not as much as she'd thought they be. The only top he'd offered was a smallish one with long sleeves. It hugged every line. Jackie unbuttoned the three buttons as the neck. "Okay, my turn." Riddick let out an amused rumble, not quite a laugh and not quite a growl. "Come on, Riddick. Let me see what I've gotten myself into." He took the challenge, standing and dressing slowly so that Jackie could see exactly what her persistence had bought her. 'Oh, man…there's that tingle again. Oh, that's a bad spitfire scar there.' She moved up to him as he zipped his pants, saying nothing as she kissed the acid burn on his side. 'All or nothing.'

"Hey, Jackie—I'm gonna end up taking those clothes right back off you," he teased.

"You wish, mister."


	13. So, You want to hang with me?

So, you want to hang with me?

Richard B. Riddick had a choice to make. His life was a dangerous one, uncertain and filled with death at every turn. Still, the darkness in his soul had sought something. It was not always easy for the killer, the animal, and the man to agree on something but the three days he had sat with Jack in his lap hammered home one simple fact. He needed her. He'd ached with a pain so rending when he thought she would die that he just couldn't face the meaning behind it. It was not love. Love was something that his limited experience had no use for. It was not lust. He'd had plenty of lust in his time. He really didn't know what it was for sure, if he'd been forced to name it. All the same it was stronger than anything he had ever felt before. Richard knew that he was fighting a battle he could not win. His inner darkness was determined to keep what it had claimed; the killer saw no reason to push the Jack away. He had to make sure that she would survive in his world. He picked up his shirt and slid into it. "You are gonna do pull-ups. Grab that bar and get started." Time for lesson three. She really couldn't argue. Jackie had to leap to reach the bar, and Riddick didn't move to help her. His no nonsense approach made it a gruff process to ensure that she was doing everything right, from holding the bar to the position of her legs. They had at least a month, and Riddick figured that this way their physical teasing would have an outlet that Imam and Fry could be comfortable with. "Go on, pull."

Jackie began tightening her arms and lifting her body. "How many?"

"Until I say stop." He listened to the slight creak of her hands on the metal as they shifted to her weight ever so slightly.

"Bastard."

Riddick moved to the front and lifted the blanket, tucking it up so that he could keep an eye on Jackie to make sure she didn't stop. "I'll watch for a while, Carolyn."

"Yeah? Sure. I could use that." Fry got up and moved to the back. Just watching Jackie build up a sweat made her tired. Fry settled down into a chair well out of the way and picked up the blanket she'd been using from the stack neatly folded on the floor. She yawned, "Are you sure you should be pushing Jackie this hard, Riddick?"

"Hard? Hell, I've just started. There will be push-ups, squats, curls, and sit-ups too."

Jackie laughed at Fry's expression. "Heh, I asked for it, Fry." Riddick got a self-satisfied look on his face at the sound. If Jackie had enough energy to laugh she had enough to work out. Imam watched Riddick as he took over the pilot's chair and scanned over the readouts. One thing the holy man had to acknowledge was that Riddick was intelligent in ways that bordered on genius. The beads slowly clicked through his hand as he turned his attention back to his prayers.

"You've got more spunk than I do, kiddo." Fry leaned back and watched Jackie until her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. It did not take long, as Fry had been awake for the better part of the last 3 days on top of the stress of their escape.

Imam waited until Fry was sleeping before looking at Riddick. He sensed that some things just would not be shared the with the docking pilot until Riddick knew her better. It was possible that Riddick would not share with him either but he needed to know about the man's past. He needed to understand what the large, obviously trained killer had seen that was enough for the Company to not only lock him away, but wipe pieces of his past clean. Imam lightly broached the subject; "You were security on Sigma 3. How did you end up in prison?"

"I got tired of the horse-bit, Father." Riddick glanced back at Jackie, "Don't stop."

"My arms are getting shaky." Jackie stuck out her tongue; "I have an itch on my nose."

"So scratch it. But don't stop."

Imam looked back at the young woman with compassion but could tell she was fine. "Horse-bit, Mr. Riddick? I don't fully understand."

There was something about the cleric that brushed Riddick's soul. While he was not an open man, so few bothered to ask him how he'd ended up like this that the opportunity was just too sweet to pass up. Of course, it meant showing some trust in someone. Richard trusted Imam Abu al-Walid on some level that was unusual for him. He looked at the dark skinned man for a long moment before answering. "Company took me on when I was 12 or so. I should have gone into the slave camps like all the other kids in the group home, but I must have caught someone's eye. I ended up a Sweeper. It's a suicide job. Ninety-percent mortality rate. I survived longer than the officer's sons I was posted with did, in spite of getting misted by the local life form. Company man, Johastein, put me in the Strike Force training program on Sigma's moon base. He took me under his wing and put me in charge of security. The price I paid was that I had to keep my mouth shut. Then Jackie came along and they tried to shuffle her off to a home. It was the last straw." Long story kept short, none of the gory details required.

"Carl Johastein?" Jackie asked. She was moving slower but still moving. It was 'pops'. The memories flooded back to her, freezing her in place for a moment. Her breathing caught in her throat. It was a name she had never wanted to hear again. A sinking feeling threatened to weigh her down. She felt like lead had settled in her stomach.

Riddick noticed the change instantly, but ignored it for a moment as he let his almost mate hang from the roof. He finally, slowly stated, "Yeah."

"Fuck."

There was so much dismay in the curse that Riddick immediately connected with the feeling. He knew who had beaten her and what had happened to make her flee Sigma 3 at that moment. Could he teach her to use that emotion to fuel her training? Would she respond? He shifted his focus, "What he'd do to you Jackie?" Riddick turned to look at her, willing her to own the pain and anger.

"Everything, Riddick. He did everything." Her voice was so bitter that Imam looked startled. Somehow the story he'd heard about her being sent away made no sense with the clear agony and rage she was feeling. He puzzled on that while he listened to the banter as it continued.

"Channel that anger, girl. Focus on your arms and make them keep going."

Jackie gritted her teeth and pictured finally being able to beat the crap out of the man who'd made her life living hell, "Okay, I can do that." Her pace strengthened and her face set in determination.

Imam watched in silence for a time, marveling how Jackie seemed to get a second wind. Riddick had turned back to the readouts. Imam looked at him. "Did they tell you how you ended up in the company home, Mr. Riddick?"

"Found me in a dumpster, behind a liquor store. Umbilical cord still attached and looped around my neck. A breech birth gone bad, likely. Thought I was dead, until they cut the cord off and I started breathing." Riddick paused, 'Why am I telling you this, preacher? Why do you care?' Yet he found himself unable to stop, "They told me that they looked for my mother; she never came forward."

"I am sorry." Imam reached out and put a hand on Riddick's shoulder. "Have you tried faith?"

"Yeah, I got faith, Imam. I believe in God, alright." Riddick looked up at the older man, "No offence intended, but I absolutely hate the fucker."

"None taken, Mr. Riddick. God loves unconditionally, regardless of how you feel in return."

Riddick didn't respond. Silence stretched out until Jackie let out a verbal protest as she forced her shaking arms to lift her again. Riddick didn't respond to that either. "Ah—" Jackie said as she lowered her body, "How—much—more?"

"Five."

"You must be joking!"

"Yeah, do ten."

"Shit."

"Okay, 15."

Jackie got the picture, the more she talked the more he added. She stuck out her tongue as she struggled with the first of the 15.

"Don't cheat, or I'll spank you."

"I—might—like—that." Two more done.

"Add five, sweetheart." Crap, up to 17.

The grunts of effort were not punished, Jackie discovered, but she was very careful not to say anything until she'd done the requested amount. Riddick didn't respond; he didn't say stop. Jackie hung there for a moment and scowled at the back of his head. Then she slowly forced another pull out of her exhausted arms. "Stop." Riddick's voice rolled like a wave of distant thunder. Jackie never thought she'd be so glad to hear him say that one word. 'Like a parched desert waiting for rain,' she thought. Riddick poured her a cup of water, "Come here," he held the cup up and out but did not come over. Jackie lightly dropped down from the bar and walked over to the offered water. Her arms quivered oddly.

"You are an ass, you know that, don't you?" She took the cup and sipped at the cool liquid inside.

"Next set I'm gonna add my shoes to the weight of your legs."

"What? You're gonna make it harder?"

"I could do twice as much with you on my back, and only one arm, girl. You got a long way to go."

"That's not a fair comparison, Riddick."

He laughed. "No, babe. But life's not fair." He took her hand and pulled her wrist up to his nose. 'What, do I stink?' She was watching his face closely. Imam was trying not to watch, putting his focus on the black and gold beads in his hands. Riddick sniffed up Jackie's arm to the inside of her elbow, making Jackie tingle again inside, "Finish your water and lay a blanket down on the floor."

"For what?" Jackie asked.

"Crunches," he gave her a sly grin.

"Ass."

He slapped her butt as she turned away, "You are getting a nice one, girl."

Jackie turned red. "What? This bony thing?" She patted her own rump as she picked up one of the crumpled blankets and began folding into a mat size.

"You're not bony."

"Right…"

"Fine, get your 'bony' ass down on the floor and start moving."

Riddick treated the sit-ups and curls much the same way he'd treated the pull-ups, but instead of having her stop completely after the normal round he introduced variations. Because of the injuries Jackie couldn't do as many of each type, so he worked around her limitations. It left her sweaty and shaky. He held out more water, just for her to see and wiggled a finger. "Do you want me to hate you?" Jackie asked after a moment. He flashed her a wicked grin. Imam just watched as the exhausted young woman on the floor fixed Riddick with an exasperated expression, "It's not gonna work." She wiped her face with her sleeve; "You are stuck with me." Jackie rolled over and got to her feet. Fry was still asleep, softly breathing between slightly open lips. Jackie passed her and walked up to take the water. Riddick caught her and pulled her down into his lap before giving her the cup. "You are so confusing."

Riddick looked at Imam. "I'm trying to be considerate."

"There is no need on my behalf, Mr. Riddick. When I was on my first Hajj as a youth, Furya was a place we visited. According to their laws, Jackie is a woman with the right to choose her mate. Clearly she has done so." Imam fixed the pair with a steady gaze.

Riddick grunted; he knew Jackie was a woman. She was fertile; he could smell it. "You assume, Holy Man, that she's a member of this dead race. Why?"

"The old Furyan man at the slave camp was giving her mother food, a clear sign that the child she was feeding was his. It was a typical behavior."

"He was the camp cook."

"It was extra food, and I sense that he paid for the deed with his life."

Riddick went quiet. It did make sense. Hell, the old goat shielded Aubrey with his body when the other members of the group caught her with the food. He fought them off until they beat him down. Then he had covered her from the rocks being thrown at them when he could no longer support himself to fight. As security, Riddick and his men broke up the stoning to find the cook a bloody battered mass, curled around a woman who was injured but far less so that she would have been otherwise. The child hadn't even been touched because of the old cook's body blocking the blows. Come to think of it, he personally had shielded Jackie, more than once. "So, how is that conclusive?"

"Jackie knew of the place, Mr. Riddick. None of us mentioned it. They were a very spiritual people."

Jackie watched Imam. He seemed so certain. "Can I get more water?" Imam refilled her cup. "Thanks. You know, I kinda think Imam is right about the old cook that you mentioned Riddick. It just makes sense. I knew Johastein wasn't related to me. None of his kids looked anything like me. Hell, my eyes are a totally different color from either Mom's, his, or any of them." She snuggled into his warmth again, liking how he made her feel. "Besides, he hated me." Imam noticed Jackie had the warmest hazel eyes he'd ever seen, big and enchanting. Clearly she felt safe where she was.

"He kept you to hurt me." Riddick whispered into the top of her head and followed it by brushing his lips through her velvety short hair. "I betrayed him, prison wasn't a big enough punishment. Maybe he thought you were my kid. He told me he was gonna ruin everything I had. He successfully did that to your mother, Jack, but I'm not gonna let him get his hands on you again." He looked at Imam, "I'm gonna get you and Fry back to New Mecca and Jackie and I are gonna disappear."

"I would invite you to stay awhile with me, Mr. Riddick. No one would dare think that you would go to such a bright place. Perhaps you and Jackie could enjoy the time peacefully."

"Maybe."

"Nah, Imam. There's gonna be questions no matter where we go, even with the ID switch. Never know who we could run into, or which of us is gonna slip up and call the big guy here," Jackie patted his arm, "by his real name at the wrong time. It's too risky for us to stay on New Mecca." Yet in spite Jackie's rejection Imam could see that Riddick still considered his offer and was far from certain in his rejection of it. Something in that fact made the holy man feel almost as if he'd passed some very difficult test. Riddick was accepting him in a way that he'd not accepted the docking pilot. The three of them sat silently together watching the stars while Carolyn Fry caught up on her sleep.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The days picked up a rhythm, at least to Jackie. She would wake, eat, tease Riddick, embarrass Fry, exercise until she was to tired to move, or beyond, depending on Riddick's mood, and settle down for several hours of data manipulation on Johns' computer. Riddick's interest in the latter usually slowed what was an already tedious process, but Jackie was kind of glad that he was paying attention. In between times of sleep and wakefulness, the four of them learned about each other. Imam revealed far less about himself then he learned about Fry, Riddick, or Jackie. Riddick, the holy man noted talked more around Jackie, like when he was touching or holding her than he did otherwise. Something about Jackie calmed and opened the large man up to sharing his experiences. Jackie revealed little shards of her life at the most unexpected moments. Like when hauling out a water bladder and revealing how many infants she'd taken care of, or watching Riddick shave and quietly stating how perfect he seemed in contrast to the men she'd seen her mother with. Fry was by far the most open, speaking about her struggles and battles to just make it to docking pilot only to find that she hated cryo. Occasionally though, Imam would speak about himself, his faith, his travels, and his home.

Jackie thought that of the four of them Imam's life seemed the most peaceful, and a huge contrast to any of their experiences. She could see that her life in particular seemed to stab deep into the holy man's being. That alone made her quiet about what she'd been through and tightlipped about why she'd run away. For several weeks she deflected near constant attempts by Imam as he sought the source of her pain and anger that Riddick so regularly exploited to push her workouts beyond her normal limits. Still Imam persisted even to the point of trying different tactics. He finally resorted to asking, "Why do you not want to talk about it Jackie?" when everything else failed.

Riddick had her in his lap again as he watched the skiff controls and her work with an embedded video message she'd found while digging through Johns' weakly encrypted files. " 'Cause I don't, Imam. It serves no purpose to dwell on it." Riddick was not coming to her defense this time. In fact he was getting a little annoyed with the constant but gentle digging. "Look, it was a Company world, with Company rules…what more do I need to say?"

"There are Company worlds then there are company worlds, Jackie. Help me understand." Imam was so tenacious.

Riddick nuzzled her ear, "What is that?" he pointed to something in the background of the image she was picking apart.

"A shadow, Hassan, I think. I'm gonna isolate those sections and save them, I can use it to hide any cuts."

"Not Hassan. Carolyn."

"Whatever." Imam waited, watching them. Finally Jackie looked up at him, "You heard Riddick mention Johastein. What type of world do you think Sigma 3 is Imam? Civilization hasn't reached it, and the Company will strip it barren before its finished with it. You figure it out." Her eyes were so filled with torment that it broke his heart. It was not normal for someone to carry that type of torture around inside of them. He feared that it would cause permanent harm if Jackie did not open up to someone. Riddick must have thought nothing of it, perhaps because he also carried that deep pain around. But Jackie still had a chance of healing, if only she shared the damaging experience.

"Please Jackie, talk to me." Imam tried again.

She sighed, 'Don't want to talk about it. Won't ever tell anyone.' Riddick slid his hand under her arm and onto her stomach, feeling the results of the exercises he'd relentlessly put her through. Jackie felt her resolve waver, "It'll just hurt you, Father."

"Tell the man what he wants to know, Jackie." Riddick was siding with Imam only because he was tired of the endless questions. "I got you, you're safe here."

"I left 'cause he beat me." Jackie busied her fingers with a piece of data.

"Why does not ring true?" Imam stated.

"Okay, he beat me and—stuff. God, do you have any idea how painful it is to think about what he did to me?" Jackie looked from the laptop to the concerned face watching her. She felt Riddick's arms hug her. She sighed again, "How descriptive do you want me to be, Father? Is it enough to know that he raped me?"

"I am sorry, Jackie. I did not know. But you need to talk about it. Why is that enough for you to leave when you had already endured so much?"

"It was the way he did it…" she shifted uncomfortably. "He was threatening to send me to the slave pits, Okay?"

"Meaning?" Imam really had no idea where she was going with her revelation. He could see Riddick understood. She was only confirming something the ex-ranger already knew. Imam shifted his look to the man behind Jackie, "You clearly know."

Riddick knew this would hurt her, just the words in clear plain speak would hurt. There was little he could do to shut the holy man up without answering his persistently annoying questions. He put the entire thing on the table and readied himself for the backlash from the woman in his lap. "Sigma 3 is a mining world," he began. Jackie stiffened and sat still. She gave Riddick a look that begged him to not say it… but he ignored her, "Corporation sends indentured-workers and orphans there to work. Like me, Jackie is legally an orphan. Company owns us, lawfully. Virtual slaves." His eyes focused on the star field as he flatly spoke the part Jackie had never wanted articulated, "And Johastein was gonna pimp her out." He felt her twist in his arms, knocking the laptop to the floor, curling against him with a sob. The pain she felt stabbed him like a razor sharp shiv. Anger welled to fill the spiritual wound. "You happy now, Imam?"

Jackie felt Riddick again growl. It was a deep vibration of a sound, filled with unspoken menace. She sobbed harder hoping he wasn't pushing her away. Imam stood, "I seem to not be wanted here. I will leave you." Jackie heard the rustle of his clothes and the sound of the blanket falling into place. Riddick nudged the computer closed with his toe. Neither of them said anything as she cried herself into a tired numb state.

Finally Riddick said, "Sorry, babe." Jackie weakly hit his shoulder. Sometimes he made her so, so… Hell, she didn't know how he made her feel. She wanted to hate him, sometimes…. Yet she was terrified that he'd go away leaving her behind. And the expression on his face when she raised her head to look at him was so, so…. God, she wanted to kiss him, or slap him, or… Her body was ablaze with electric energy again, radiating up from his lap and washing over her like a tide. Even her arms and legs tingled.

"You confuse me," she whispered after a long pause.

He twisted his lips into a teasing grin, "Sorry, babe."

"No you're not. You like seeing me this way!" she hit him again. It had been days since he'd gotten to her, not that he hadn't been trying. She fixed an angered stare at him only to have him laugh.

"Yeah. I can think of a few other ways I'd like to see you, too, but I don't think you want to be a freak show." He slipped his hands under her shirt and traced her spine with his fingers, enjoying the results of his punishing exercise regime. Then he leaned in and nuzzled the crook of her neck where it met her shoulder. It didn't help matters much. Lately his scent and taken on a, well, erotic, dimension and now she was bathed in it. She melted, folding into him.

"Keep up like this and I won't care, Riddick."

"Yes you will." He was speaking softly right against her skin, tasting her. The tingle began to work into her toes while what she felt in her torso began to be more like a raging inferno than a tingle. Her breathing changed. Whatever he was doing he had to be enjoying driving her crazy, Jackie told herself. She nuzzled his neck, gently, tentatively, brushing his skin with her lips and cheek. Somehow her hands found their way under his tank and around onto his back. She was dimly aware that she was tracing his spine much as he'd been tracing hers. She felt him stir beneath her. "You are a bad girl," he said as he pulled back. His face told her what he wasn't saying; 'I want you.'

Jackie found it in herself to laugh, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he purred.

It was his teasing that Jackie found so frustrating. It was like being on an emotional roller-coaster. One minute he was all over her, the next he retreated into a shell. And she kept falling for it. He pointed to the laptop on the floor; "You should finish that." He lifted her up onto her feet, slipped past her, and moved through the curtain. "Come on Carolyn, you've been back here for too long."

"You wanna switch? Yeah, okay I'll eat up there then." Jackie listened as she picked up the laptop and settled back into the chair still radiating from Riddick's heat. Fry joined her up front. Jackie started to get up again, "No, you're fine, Jackie. Just hit the control switch button there to flip the controls." Jackie pressed the button. They sat in silence with only the clicking of Jackie's fingers at work to keep them company. Fry slowly munched on the ration she was eating as she watched the controls and looked out at space. She finally looked at Jackie, "I think I know what Riddick's doing, kiddo."

"Oh? 'Cause I haven't a clue, Carolyn. He's making me crazy." Jackie stopped and looked at the woman who was finally settling into the realization that she had to approach Jackie in a neutral, rather sisterly fashion, in order to avoid provoking Riddick.

"Ever see two birds mate in the wild?"

"Birds? No. I've only seen birds in picture books."

"It's a courtship. Like an instinctive ritual. Every step he makes that you follow satisfies him for a time. That's why he backs off." Fry looked away, "Let it go slow, kiddo. You are lucky."

Jackie snorted, "Well, fine. But he's still making me crazy."

Fry laughed, "I can tell, and he is loving it. Crazy." She shook her head, "I hate to say this but the two of you really make time fly. It's like watching a vid-program. Only I care far too much about the characters involved."

"We got what, 9 days, until we hit the shipping lane?"

"Looks like. We might hit a communication beacon before that, so you should get the changes made."

"I know, it's almost done except for this vid-message Johns tried to bury. Damn it if the audio track is a separate file. I gotta get it integrated, or it won't work." Jackie growled, "Or I could just link it and let the random interference make it look like Johns was a total dip-shit."

"He was a dip-shit, Jack. Just link 'um back up the way he had it," Riddick was almost laughing.

"Go to sleep, you big lug." Jackie shook her head at Fry, "See what hell I put up with?"

"Sure do."

Jackie found herself working on the files until Imam reminded her that Riddick would be putting her through her workout in a few hours. She shrugged, "I'm almost done, then I'll sleep after I take my punishment, Imam." Jackie was finishing up the final strings when Riddick loomed over her. "You will have to wait for like 5 minutes, I'm almost done." He stood over her waiting the entire time. Jackie reset the message and her encapsulated files to auto-transmit as soon as the link was in range. "Give me a wet-wipe, huh?" Riddick shot her a questioning look but got her the wipe. She wiped off the keys, the screen and the outer casing. "I want to hide this someplace Johns might have hid it, but where we wouldn't have found it."

Riddick grinned at her. He moved over to a panel and lifted it up. Paris had hidden several pieces of statuary there. "Let's put it here." Jackie smiled at him. An extra box of Johns' red shells were already hidden there too. They hid the link without getting anymore prints on it; Jackie wiped down the hidden grips too. "Now Jack, time to get sweaty." Even being awake all night didn't keep her from being pushed until she was shaking. As she went to do push ups he sat and crossed his legs over her shoulders, firmly pushing against her upward movement. He was amazed at how strong she was getting and how much resistance he had to apply to make the workouts hard on her. "You know, you really should do that one-hand."

"You're joking!"

"No, I'm not. Wrap one arm up behind your back."

"Bastard." But she did it, carefully balancing on one arm. He eased up on the pressure, leaving his legs on her. Imam and Carolyn busied themselves knowing the routine all too well. Each day he had made the workouts harder so that they were not getting longer. Plus it kept the banter between he and Jackie on an innocent level. It kept them playful towards each other and gave them both an outlet for the physical energy that built up in the tiny space of the skiff. The better-toned Jackie became, the more Riddick worked with her, teaching her stretches, pulling against her, and even joining her by challenging her to see who could do more. She had him on the flexibility already. It was something he could push himself to match.

Jackie found that for the next week more of her time was spent doing physical stuff. She was working her legs more, bending more. Every time she thought she was starting to do well, Riddick increased the difficulty. She found herself doing odd things too, like holding balancing positions for long periods of time. He was usually doing the same thing and Jackie imagined that Imam and Carolyn must've thought they looked really strange.

Riddick was also starting to teach her how to read the controls of the skiff. Not piloting exactly, but how to understand the dials and readouts. A first step. Jackie listened with far more attention than she'd ever listened to her teachers at school, back when Johastein had let her go. Half the words on the readouts she couldn't pronounce, but she was learning what they stood for and that was something of a big deal right there. Carolyn noticed, too. She actually helped out. Between the two pilots Jackie was discovering that she might just have the smarts to fly. It both thrilled and frightened her.

Imam had backed off about the questions. He hadn't even talked to her for several days other than to say hello. It was hard to tell if he just had nothing to say or if Riddick had scared him off. Jackie imagined that he was still dealing with the loss of his boys. Hell, she was not over that yet, and in reality she'd barely known them. It hurt to think about it. Jackie finally moved over and sat next to Imam as he worked his beads through his fingers. "Imam?" He looked at her, his eyes were so sad. "What you gonna do once we get to New Mecca?"

His face brightened, "Get a shower. Funny how that one thing is bothering me. After all that has happened I want a shower."

"Yeah. The wipes just don't cut it do they?" Jackie smiled at him. "I'm not mad at you, Imam. You were right, I did need someone to know…."

He took her hand and squeezed it; "I could have never imagined anyone wanting to do that to you, Jackie. That's an evil I cannot fathom." He looked at Riddick; "Before I learned of your past I could not fully understand how or why you would welcome his lifestyle. Now, though, I see that you will always have to keep moving. It's better for you to stay with Mr. Riddick than to be on your own. But, if you change your mind, my door will always be open."

"Thanks, Imam. I doubt that I'll change my mind, but I appreciate the offer." They sat in silence for a while until Carolyn moved to the back with a yawn. Jackie stood up, "Tired, Captain?"

"Um, yeah. Why don't you go up front, kiddo."

Jackie stood and moved to the co-pilot seat. "We're gonna be hitting the shipping lane in two days." Riddick looked at her. "Man, there's gonna be a lot of questions, no matter who we run into. Could even be a Merc ship. What are we gonna tell them about your eyes?"

"Um…"

"Riddick? I'm worried that the ID transfer won't work." Jackie chewed on her lip for a moment, "What if Johastein is looking for me?"

"Babe, you worry too much."

"But…"

Riddick patted his lap and wiggled his finger. Jackie made a face and moved over to him. "Jackie, we just survived a crash. So we tell whoever finds us that my eyes got fucked up in the damn crash. Relax." He pulled her into his lap and held her. Jackie sighed. He always made it sound so simple. Slowly, she relaxed into him. She could spend her entire life right here, in his arms. How had this happened? Not so long ago she'd idolized him and now….

"Riddick?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"Okay." He chucked and nuzzled her head. Jackie felt his pleasant rumble radiate through her back and his face playfully move through her hair. In the last month and a half she'd grown enough hair back to be annoyed with it but not enough to style it. She was so tempted to cut it back off, but Riddick seemed to like it so it stayed, spiked up into the air like some type of exotic tawny fur. She couldn't even imagine what she had to look like now, all tall and lean with this impossible hair and ill-fitting boy's clothing. The one thing that she'd brought with her on this trip that still fit were her shoes. And the on thing that she'd dreaded, that monthly curse of woman-hood, hadn't happened again. She was not sure why. It could've been the exercising. She knew she wasn't pregnant… Riddick hadn't done anything but tease her. Besides, Carolyn or Imam surely would have known if he'd done something while she'd been in the coma. And surely they'd have said something. She was worried that the injury messed something up. Every time she thought about it, it filled her with uncontrollable panic. And fear – what if Riddick changed his mind about keeping her because she was damaged? She was too scared to ask him. But the more she thought about it the harder it became to push it away.

"Jackie, what's wrong?"

'God, he can sense it, can't he?' She tried to relax again, not realizing until he spoke that she was sending out tiny signals of terror. "I – I should've had a period, Riddick."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I didn't have one. Carolyn had one, but I haven't." It sounded so dumb. Riddick knew about Fry's period, they all did. It was kind of hard to hide that kind of thing in this small skiff. "I know, it's stupid. But I was regular, like clockwork, for the last year, so why did I miss this one?" He just held her. Jackie waited for the other shoe to fall, for him to reject her, but he just held her. The minutes piled up. "Riddick, what if Johns fucked me up? What if--"

He curled his arms around her tighter and sniffed her, "He didn't."

"What? Did you do some sampling while I was out?" She didn't want an edge to the words, but it was there none the less.

"Jackie! No. I wouldn't do that." Riddick turned her in his lap to look at her, shocked that she'd even think that he'd take advantage of her in such a manner. "I'd kill the man who tried, understand?"

Her eyes welled up with hot tears; he looked kinda pissed, kinda sad, and totally confused that this was an issue. "What does your super-nose tell you then?"

"It tells me that you are all woman, Jackie. Nothing's wrong with you. Maybe you don't need to advertise anymore. Maybe that's one of the things that makes you – what'd Imam call them? Furyan?"


	14. Big Fish, Little Fish

**A/N:** Because so many of you asked nicely... Heading into Dark Fury now. I still own nothing.

Big Fish, Little Fish…

They had two long days before hitting the shipping lane. Those two days would prove to be the last two days that Riddick dared to work Jackie into a shaking mass of quivering muscles. It was the silence on the comms that shook his faith, once again, that his luck was changing for the better. Although the sensors placed them at the edge of the shipping lane, the comms stayed silent in all but the long-range transmissions. Fry had angled them into a well-used route but the communication beacons didn't paint a hopeful picture. Ships didn't come by very often in this region of space. There was not much to call them here, for one. No tourist hotspots, no thriving outposts, not even a Company venture existed in this unstable area of wild space. Aquila Prime didn't even place on of their automated refill stations along this route. That was rather depressing, considering how close to the Aquilian system the route went.

They were also much closer to 'goll space than most ships dared to venture. Rychengoll's were considered to be a danger to both themselves and others. For good reason, really. For the most part they were downright crazy, dabbling into branches of science that created horrid mutations, insane half machine and half-living creatures that they could barely control. Not to mention that their religion embraced self-blinding and literal physical binding of one person to another… And they usually enjoyed a booming black market trade in illegal slaves. Having been in one of their prisons once, Riddick didn't fancy another trip to one. He made sure that everyone understood why there was to be no auto-distress message until he was sure of no 'golls picking it up. By the time he was done explaining his reasoning even Imam looked a little queasy. And Carolyn had unconditionally agreed that radio silence was far better than being picked up by a group of 'goll pirates and sold off to the highest bidder.

Riddick immediately altered his training tactic. They had to conserve every drop of water and every breath of air. The skiff wasn't meant for long-range journeys. It was a minor miracle that it had held up this long. The recycling system was rated for a couple of weeks tops, for example. The solution had been to wait until the waste bladder was full before turning it on and then making sure it was promptly shut off as soon as the bladder was near empty. It was proving to be a good precaution. And after surviving on a low oxygen world after the crash, the atmosphere inside the skiff could be kept at near the same levels without undo discomfort. He and Jack began to spend hours in mediation, often punctuated by gentle periods of balancing poses that did not raise a sweat. Fry set the skiff to limp towards Helion, shifted the life support systems to as low as she could, and begin to join Imam in his prayers. Now that she no longer needed to watch space for hazards, all systems that would not work to keep them alive were shut off.

It was this process, more than anything, that made Jackie feel like she was adrift inside a tin can. It was an odd feeling, a mixture of hopelessness and safety. Part of her believed that as long as Riddick was there her life would be okay, while the more pragmatic side figured that they would die, frozen and asphyxiated, and never be found. She was careful not to voice her feelings though. She observed Riddick's matter-of-fact method for dealing with each day and followed his example.

Days stretched into a week. The contact with the outside universe was limited to just an hour a day, but for that hour the four of them listened to static-filled news as it speed from Helion to the hinterland. Jack was glad for the tiny bit of normalcy that hearing about sports provided. Hell, even news about the economy was interesting. It wasn't what Fry was listening for, however. Carolyn turned off the communications to save power. "I don't think the distress call even got out. There's no sign that the Hunter Gratzner is even being looked for. Surely Paris had insurance on his cargo. That alone would be enough--"

"Do you really think that the mighty Company is going to actually spend the credits to look for the ship before it should have reached port? And if they do, why would they announce it?" Riddick fixed his odd eyes on the docking pilot. By now, if Jackie's switch had worked, Richard B. Riddick would be dead and the merc's guild would be pressing to keep it quiet, just so they didn't have to pay Johns' estate the final death bond. He let himself stare at the blond woman for a moment longer. "I'm getting some sleep." He pulled a blanket around his shoulders and closed his eyes.

"But, Riddick – don't you want something to eat?" Jackie asked.

"Not hungry." It was better not to push when he spoke in that tone, she reflected. She sighed and nibbled on a ration before settling down next to him. After a moment he reached out and pulled her into his arms, blanket and all. She smiled weakly and snuggled into the warmth he offered. Even though he confused her at the best of times it was these moments that made up for it all. While she was in his arms nothing else mattered.

It formed a daily pattern. Sleep, rest, mediation, resistance work, a bit of food, a cup of water, listening to the news and then back again to sleep. Jackie lost track of how many days had passed. One week? Two? More? She didn't know. The working crono had been on Paris when he died. The one on the ship was working, but about 22 years out of date. And the fact was that Jackie had never learned how to read one with a dial face. It seemed stupid to tell anyone that though. She had to wonder if knowing would make it easier or worse.

Then one day they spotted another ship. And it didn't stop. Fry tried everything to get the ship's attention too. It just ignored the distress call. Finally Riddick stepped in and shut everything down. "No more fucking news for a week. You just wasted enough power with that stunt to shutter our chances."

"Fuck you, Riddick! I don't see you trying to get us to Helion," Carolyn snapped.

The two of the stared each other down until Imam broke in, "Enough! I think you need to rest, Carolyn. Take a protein pill and get some sleep."

Fry looked over at the holy man and nodded.

That was the one and only ship they chanced upon. It was probably their saving grace that they didn't chance upon another ship that passed them by. The skiff's power would have given out long before anyone chanced upon it had there been another distress signal broadcast.

The supplies dwindled as they limped toward Helion in their tiny skiff. Finally, Carolyn switched out the spare oxygen tanks for their breathers with the empty tanks on the skiff and lowered to mix to barely passable to extend their air. The last of the rations and Paris' canned delicacies gave way to emergency protein pills. Even with the skiff recycling the waste products they were down to a single bladder of water. If someone didn't find them soon they'd die out in cold space. They huddled in blankets to make the fuel last. They spent most of the time in a state of shivering near-sleep, deep in their own misery. It was a desperate situation. Everyone forgot about the time passing. Out in the black of space, what did it matter? The skiff was set to autopilot. Its computers could keep the ship inside the sol-track lanes. Fry and Imam spent most of their time asleep. It was likely better that way. Jackie learned that she felt better when she mediated and therefore spent much of her time in a state of deep relaxation, all the while remaining aware of what happened around her.

Riddick resigned himself to face death, should it come for him, head on. What would be, would be. It seemed he was as stone-like as he'd ever been. At least the three sides of him were a peace with each other. He had saved Jack from Johns. He'd found acceptance, friendship even. Yet, inside, part of him hurt. He'd never meant for Jack to face death like this. He hadn't wanted her to survive John's attack only to suffocate. He'd give his last breath so she could live. He focused on Jack's currently sleeping form, sweeping his gaze over her face. He watched the soft motion of her breathing. There was little else so beautiful. The universe was so cruel, giving him hope and then slowly crushing it. Jack was taller than she'd been when this whole thing started, lean and toned. Her face could still be sweet and innocent but she was more aware of how to focus her inner strength and be blank and unreadable when she needed or wanted to be. He looked away, studying the wall of the skiff as he had a thousand times before, attempting to pull his defenses back into place.

This entire ordeal sapped his mental strength. It would be too easy to just give in to the hopelessness pressing on his soul. Riddick closed his eyes as his skin began to buzz. The visions always came to him when he was weak. Marshaling his will again he gruffly ordered the intrusion away, 'Fuck off… I don't want to know. Please just go away.' Perhaps begging it was the wrong thing to do…instead the feeling grew and he was too weak to fight it off. First there was blackness. Velvety darkness. It was warm. Clean. Then he saw flashes of twisted human shapes. Silvery gray highlighted worn blackened metal. Old images. He knew these from long ago. Usually he would see marching soldiers and huge statues. Suddenly the color changed to a cyan blue light reflecting off of muscles corded, or skeletal. Bright, so bright…it hurt his eyes. Then he was under an orange sun. Trees burning. Tiny bodies falling from the sky through giant fingers. That place again, the one that haunted him always. He tried to stay there, for once. At least this was a horror he knew. But it was not to be. His vision shimmered into that of a modern ship. A tall woman, her fake white hair sweeping down her back, slyly disguised cybernetic implants concealed around her head, stood in the middle of a large cyan-blue lit room. Riddick thought he could make out oddly twisted human forms at the edge of his vision, but she was the focus of the warning. Her features were razor sharp. Her eyes carried an odd mixture of assurance and insanity. Whispers of danger caressed him. She was coming.

Later, he spent hours pondering this vision. The image in his mind of the woman seemed burned into place. He knew the pieces were jumbled. Were the bodies from her or the other? Were they connected or not? The voice that often accompanied his visions gave him no clue. That silence for once bothered him. It was par for the course that Riddick begin to keep a closer watch on the sensors even though he knew that by the time he saw them, they would have caught him. And he was right. It hit suddenly out of the black.

The proximity alarm went off. The large man leapt awake and aware. He flew toward the front of the small ship. The skiff jolted. He caught himself with a quick grab of the pilot's chair. One look at the hull integrity readout told him that a wing had been punctured. The backup shield sputtered to life. It took him a moment to sit. The jolt tossed Jackie out of her uneasy slumber, but before she was quite awake, Riddick was hard at work on the controls. The engines whined at whatever it was he was doing. Jackie's head felt fuzzy. She shook it to clear it. "Hull breach contained: Engines operating at 170 capacity." It was the computer. Jackie had never even heard the damn thing go off before. She moved into the co-pilot's chair as Riddick continued flicking switches too fast for her to follow.

Fry groaned behind them, suffering the effects of little food and oxygen for to long. Through the haze clouding her mind, the docking pilot was aware on some level that something very big was up. What exactly that was, she couldn't determine at that rather fogged up moment. It might have been a rescue for all she knew. The strobe of red alarm lights and blare of electronic warning signals startled Fry, shocking her brain away from thoughts of this being a rescue. It didn't seem like the kind of thing that a rescuer would be doing. Were they under attack? Was it the pirates that Riddick had so graphically warned them about? Panic rose inside her. She had to do something! Her mind fought to get her body to respond.

Imam stirred also but said nothing. He was in better shape than Fry but not by much. Panic never helped in situations like this. It would take up extra air. Air they didn't have enough of anyway. He slowly sat up and calmly looked toward the front of the ship. The engine's whine bore into his ears, causing his head to throb slightly. He reached for his beads. 'Riddick will get us through this,' he thought. But the larger man's swift actions and rapid movements seemed almost like those of a fight or flight response. Worry caused Imam to knit his brows. What could Riddick possibly know about the situation that he, Fry and Jack did not? Why was he using up the very last drops of power in an attempt at running? The computerized voice that he'd been jolted awake by drew his attention back to the situation. "Engine and hull failure imminent under current parameters," it droned.

'A lot of questions, whoever we run into. Could even be…a Merc ship,' the words flowed through Jackie's mind again for the thousandth time. Why had she said that? Somehow now it seemed like she had caused this just by speaking the words out loud. That was silly, though. Wasn't it? There was no way this would have not happened. Likely it was Fry's distress call from all those weeks ago that had summoned this nightmare. Jackie shivered. She trusted Riddick, honestly and completely. She was less sure about the Skiff's engines at the moment. The noise they were making was really dreadful.

"Critical systems failure in five seconds," the computer warned. That seemed to jolt Fry, at least, back to the living.

"Riddick, what is happening?" Carolyn was very awake now. If she had overreacted before, then Riddick's insane actions now were suicide. Imam just gave her a worried look as his fingers paused with their ever-present motion. Then he was fingering his prayer beads again in an attempt to stay calm. They had become his constant companion, those beads. She stood and wobbled over to the front, scooted Jackie out of the co-pilot's chair, and sat down. Her station funneled her a stream of data that indicated the skiff's engines would be out of fuel if they didn't explode. The skiff shook. Fry's eyes darted over the readings as she tried to figure out what to do, her mind shocked by the rapid flow of intel and Riddick's seamless grasp of the controls.

Jackie grasped the back of the co-pilot's chair and looked at Riddick. There was no way that they were getting away, yet for some unknown reason Riddick had tried to run from whomever it was that they had encountered. For a moment she wondered why. The thought didn't have much time to mature before the computer began a relentless countdown, "Four seconds. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second."

Riddick shut off the engines. Fight over. The vision swam before him of the tall 'Goll woman and her blue tinged rooms. His analysis of the image had revealed many things about the woman. Her ship was too nice for her to be a normal 'goll pirate, but there was no way in hell she was a normal Merc either… And she wasn't a bushwhacker, because the ship was hers and bushwhackers traveled and lived light. Then again, the 'golls were odd folk. They worshiped a blind god, and yet used cybernetics to enhance themselves. They were the first to break laws and the first to scream at the injustice of others doing the same. He didn't even know if they used the same database the rest of the universe did for tracking anything. Some 'golls hooked into every source of data they could find, while others closed themselves off and only took new intel when in port. Which habit would they follow? Would the altered info be in their database? He'd never know if he didn't test Jackie's ID switch. Somehow this entire situation gave him a very bad feeling.

"First you're a boy, then you're a girl, and now you're a psychic." Riddick drummed his fingers together as he turned his goggled gaze on Jackie, "Careful what you wish for, Jack." Jackie gave him a 'so sorry' type of smile and batted her eyelashes at him. Even at a time like this he could appreciate the tease in her manner. He let himself smile slightly at the woman whom he intended as his mate and turned it into a slight teasing scold.

The console lights went dark for a moment. Everyone's attention returned to the front of the ship. Then one single light blinked. Jackie felt an icy chill climb her spine at the sight of it. Whomever or whatever had caught them was remotely controlling the skiff. 'What happened if they shut off life support?' she wondered. Then she noticed that the blinking light was signaling an incoming message. Carolyn reached for the switch. Riddick put his hand over the docking pilot's. He shook his head. Fry stared at him, asking a silent 'why not' and seeing that he was absolutely adamant about not talking to these people. Fry pulled rank. It was this ship or death. They had no fuel left now. She swore at him, "Shit," before toggling the communications open. He hardened his face at her. It was a bad move.

"Unidentified craft, state your purpose and contents." Jackie didn't like the sound of the nasal male voice that crackled over the speakers. It chilled her to the bone. She swallowed and looked back at Imam. His face wore an expression that told her he knew the accent and that the situation was a bad one.

Fry looked at Riddick; it was not a company accent. She toggled the communications closed again, "Kovan?"

"Yeah, if we're lucky." Riddick was back inside his shell, not giving away anything. Fear was not something he enjoyed feeling, and the 'golls were about the only thing in this region of space that could make him feel it. He didn't need the others knowing about his weakness though.

"And if we're not?" Jackie looked at the two of them. She reached over and put a hand on his arm. The muscle quivered under her hand. Jackie realized that he was not happy that Fry had acknowledged the communication attempt. His element of surprise might very well be gone.

"Then it is bad, babe." He curled a hand over hers. Bad or not, he'd make it. But who else would?

The other ship forced the link open, "Unidentified craft, state your purpose and contents," the voice repeated, clearly not used to having anyone ignore it. Fry stared at the communications like they were possessed. She had no experience with any technology that could do that. 'A fluke,' she thought as she switched them off again.

Jackie felt her heart flutter in terror. Yeah it was bad. She focused on Riddick. "Remember you're Smyth, Marcus Smyth…." Jackie said to him, "and you own a business on Tangiers…" He nodded, his face tight. Somehow he doubted the ID switch would work, he had a feeling that these 'Golls were pirates more than mercs. If so, they didn't hook into the guild database while in deep space. Their computers would have old info. But he'd play the bluff, just in case.

Fry discovered that the override was not a fluke as the order came over the speakers again, "Unidentified craft, state your purpose and contents." The man on the other end was sounding very annoyed. It would have been rather easy to see him stomping his foot like a small child demanding an answer, but seeing as he was in command of a ship that had harpooned them it was unwise to dwell on such an image. Fry took a shaky breath, fear sinking deep into her soul. She watched as Riddick toggled the reply mike open.

"Name's Smyth. My ship got scrapped on a transport run. The only other survivors from the whole mess are with me. Outside of that, we got nothing," Riddick answered. Fry frowned. There was a slight pause. Jackie swallowed. Imam shuffled in his seat in discomfort. In spite of the chill in the skiff Fry felt beads of sweat forming on her skin.

"Tell me, Mr. Smyth, what brings you to this lonely corner of space?" The voice stressed the 'mister' in the sentence. 'Not buying it,' Jackie squeezed her eyes closed. Her heart beat a rising tempo. It was becoming hard to breathe.

Fry cut in; "My name is Carolyn Fry, of the Hunter Gratzner. Our ship crashed after a navigational error put us off course. I'm sure you have the distress signal in your records for the transmission made by communications officer Owens before our Comms went dark -- "

"…Mister Smyth?" The voice seemed to ignore Fry. There was a tension filled hesitation as the docking pilot stared in disbelief at the mike.

"I'm a businessman." Riddick slowly answered. At this point he figured it scarcely mattered. The old records would ID him by his voice alone. He could only imagine what is bounty was up to now that he had avoided yet another meeting with death.

"Then it appears we have something in common." There was a pause, "Bring them in." It was an order to someone on the other side of the link and Jackie was positive that this was not a rescue. Without warning she was thrown sideways and forward.

Riddick caught her as the ship lurched into a gravity field much more powerful then the skiff's. They were being pulled backwards. Riddick tightened his fist. This screamed bad. "They're reeling us in." Jackie whispered breathlessly as she looked up at his face. He met her eyes. Suddenly the darkness inside him stepped up. He'd rip his way out of this before he let anyone take his mate away. Jackie felt his set determination. His hands gave her a reassuring squeeze. She nodded at him. They would do whatever they had to do to survive. They'd do it together.

Fry was ashen. The crew of the ship that caught them had completely ignored her. The skiff vibrated as it was locked in place and the remaining power was sucked out of it through the connecting clamps. The bay doors closed off what tiny amount of light the stars had provided. The sensors read vacuum before blinking out. They had no place to run. Carolyn felt Imam's hand on her shoulder in the dark.

An overhead voice rang out "Ship is secure in Bay 3."

Riddick growled. He was the only one who could see. Lifting his goggles he could study the metallic doors that closed tight, swallowing up the skiff like a huge fish eating spawn. It confirmed his vision: newer Kovan ship, likely private, likely very large. The technology had to be state of the art. Standing Jackie back on her feet near the console, he moved over and pulled out one of the few boxes with anything left in it. It was one Paris packed likely for himself. Cigars, protein tablets, a lighter…. A plan began to form. If the lighter worked then maybe he'd have a fighting chance. He took the lighter and flicked it open. For once he was glad of the art dealer's selfish nature, 'Good old Paris, stashing cigars and a lighter on the skiff.' It was good lighter too, lighting on the second try. "Put your shiv on, Jack." He pulled out the emergency cutting torch from the toolbox and lit it up.

Jackie looked at Riddick like he was gong mad, "No offense, but I don't think that's gonna cut it against whatever it is that's coming for us." He smirked at her, the light of the torch glinting off his eyes for a moment before the goggles slid back into place. She immediately knew he had a plan. Jackie winced at her own misconception about what the torch was for before moving by torchlight to pull her shiv out of her pack, tuck it in a sock, and sliding the pack on. She knew that without a doubt that if there were a way to get through this Riddick would find it.

Riddick put the torch to the emergency fire system. Jackie watched him. Fry moved up to Imam. The first step of the plan was to fool their captors into thinking the ship was empty. As the larger ship had to be using top-of-the-line tech, Riddick figured it would be easy to find a low-tech solution. Heat sensors didn't work through fire foam. One of the first tricks he learned when escaping from automated deep storage was that robots usually used heat sensors. Foam was perfect for shutting down their danger level. He felt the first signs of low gravity. Weightlessness usually disoriented people when combined with darkness. Their captors must have been hoping that he would just float right into their cuffs. He cracked his neck and prepared himself. "Stay centered, stay together. Hold your breath." Riddick ordered as the torch's heat began to register as a raging inferno to the ship's sensors.

The skiff's gravity slowly faded leaving them weightless. The fire foam began to fill the ship. "Riddick?" Jackie asked as the torch cut out.

"Yeah, babe?" There were sounds of Riddick ripping out oxygen tanks and connecting a breather tubes to them. Three breathers for the four of them. He pressed one into each of their hands.

"Kick ass out there."

Riddick chuckled, "Yeah, babe."

Fry said, "There's only a few hits left on these."

"Hold your breath."

Jackie felt Imam take her hand as the foam filled the space around them. She reached through the stuff, in the dark and found Riddick there. He could see still, at least. Jackie ran her hand down his taunt arm. 'I got you, you're safe here,' she thought. 'Would it ever be true?' He held his shiv tight in his hand as she passed her fingers over them. She swallowed and took a deep slow breath, 'Stay centered, stay together…' Jackie willed her heart to slow, her breathing to steady. She put the breather in her mouth, filled her lungs, and reached up hoping to find his lips there, somewhere in the dark. He took the oxygen offered, knowing that he'd need it, knowing that she needed to give it. They waited in the dark as the foam lifted them up and cushioned them. They waited. There was a clang on the door. 'Show Time,' Jackie mentally announced. Riddick took one final hit on Jackie's breather and put it back in her mouth. He lightly bumped his forehead against hers. She let go of his hand. Then the hatch came open and the foam expanded, dragging them with it out into a larger space. Light drifted through just enough for Jackie to tell that the foam was grayish tan in color. She held Imam's hand tightly.

A muffled voice said, "Extinguishing foam?"

Then the voice she'd heard over the comm-link shouted, "Fall back! Everyone fall back!" But it was too late; the foam was turning red around her, tinged with Merc blood. The air filled with screams of panic and pain. She felt Fry catch her waist. Jackie pulled her up and found her face, giving her a hit of air from the breather. Imam cast his spent breather off. Jackie removed Fry's, but the docking pilot was panicked. Jackie gave her the last working air. Riddick pushed Jackie to the back side of the foam bubble near the top just long enough for her to catch a breath of air and pulled her back in. Suddenly there were shots flying every which way into the foam. And Riddick was not there.

Sounds of fighting reached Jackie's ears, men being carefully and methodically shown the way to hell. "You certainly know how to make an entrance." It was the voice over the comm-link again.

Jackie found herself close to a gun and grabbed it, "That's nothing, scarecrow. He's gonna kick your ass so hard--" Imam pulled her back into the foam away from the incoming shots. Jackie pushed him off and moved past the edge of the bubble again only to be knocked to the ground by a hard kick to her back which was cushioned only because of her pack. In the weightlessness of the bay she was able to twist as she fell. She grunted as she hit the floor, her pack under her. The effect was to push her chest up into the air in a way that previously would have made her feel rather self-conscious. Instead her mind alerted her to the presence of a tall, thin man dressed in what looked like a white lab coat. His thin face leered at her, eyes concealed behind form fitting mirrored green glasses.

"I think not." Jackie let out a gasp as her assailant leveled his gun at her forehead. "What do you say?"

"Call off your lapdog," Riddick looked up at the slim figure watching from the shadows, the one he knew from his visions, "before his trying to impress you gets him killed." Jackie could hear someone hitting flesh weakly, perhaps Riddick strangling some asshole, but her eyes were focused on the knife tip at the end of the barrel. Okay, that had been stupid. She should've stayed inside the foam, but hell, how could she with her mate in danger?

A woman's voice rang out like a clear bell, but icy cold, "Am I so obvious?"

"Call it what you want, but tell him to stand down, now." Jackie could tell Riddick was furious, maybe at the man standing over her, maybe at the woman holding the leash, maybe even at her for being stupid. Absolutely furious.

"You'll have to excuse Junner's excitement. It sometimes makes him a touch… quick." That voice made Jackie want to slap the mouth it issued from. Even through her fear, Jackie was beginning to feel anger, rage even, towards the bitch running the show. If only she knew how to get away from the blade point pressing into the skin on her forehead. "Though I can't say I blame him. You see, he's just heard so much about you – **_Riddick_**." Jackie felt her blood begin to boil. She already knew that they hadn't bought the ID switch, but the smugness in the woman's voice really pissed her off. "Yes, I know your name. Quite a bit more about you, I think."

"Careful. You might find what you're digging for." Riddick's voice carried just as much anger as Jackie felt at the moment.

"I'm willing to share, of course, but I must ask that you surrender your weapon… before any more of my apparently overpaid associates come to an untimely end." Jackie was aware that only herself, Riddick, Junner, the merc under Riddick's boot, the unnamed woman, Imam, and Fry seemed to be alive at this point, or at least, in this room. Drops of blood and bodies floated in and out of view above her attacker's head.

Riddick answered with one of his familiar growls, "Not gonna happen."

"No?" The woman questioned. Jackie swallowed. 'I trust you, Riddick. No matter what, I trust you…please, don't get me killed…' Junner pulled the trigger a hair tighter. She felt moisture gathering in the corner of her eyes from the tension of having a gun point blank on her forehead.

"The girl -- is nothing to me." Jackie detected pain in his voice, 'You're a bad liar, babe… she's not gonna buy it.'

"Then enlighten me. Why would a stone-cold killer such as yourself go to all the trouble of keeping the likes of her alive?" Jackie felt hot blood well up where the blade was cutting into her skin. Imam and Fry emerged from the foam for air. "Unless, of course, you've grown attached."

"She's a cover story, nothing more." Riddick's voice was colder. 'Better,' Jackie thought, 'but too late.' He looked back at her, catching her eye, seeing that she trusted his body's signals more than his mouth, "You shoot her now, and you'll be saving me the trouble." Jackie cringed, even though she knew he was trying to save her it still hurt to hear him say it.

"Then I have your blessing." The woman's footsteps retreated. The sharp point cut deeper, hurting as more blood dribbled down her forehead, like a red tear. Riddick had lost the bluff. Junner pulled the trigger tighter, teasing with his intent, trying to make Jackie show fear, taking sadistic pleasure in her glaring anger. With a grunt Riddick threw his shiv into the barrel of Junner's gun, lifting it away from Jackie's head and to the side. "Maybe I know more about you than you do yourself." The witch's voice drifted back to them.

"Now just ain't the time." Riddick answered, crushing the man's throat with his foot as he stood up further breaking the merc's neck with a twist of his leg.

"Lock them down." Junner lifted his gun to his shoulder with a smirk that was eerily similar to one Johns had worn when he thought he'd won; Jackie fixed the black-haired man a glare that was like shards of glass. "We're done here."


	15. Hero Worship Gone Wrong

**A/N **Anyone who has not seen Dark Fury should check out the 'toon by Peter Chung right away. Once you do you'll see I don't own a thing...

Thanks to all those who review. I enjoy every last one. (Chapter updated to correct spelling of Lujjan's name).

Hero Worship Gone Wrong.

It was amazing how fast the backup group of mercs moved out into the blood and body filled docking bay once the order was given. The ex-ranger surveyed the group of mangy men. Most were out of shape. One in particular was so out of shape that he resembled an upright overfed pig as he wobbled forward on squat legs. Some of the others relied on implants of various types to get the job done. All in all he doubted that they would give him much trouble in a normal situation. Only his life had taken a rather abnormal turn, he remembered. He now had a mate, and _that_ complicated things. She was his strength and his weakness. The rash impulsive actions of his past were too risky until he'd trained her to fight with him. Fighting was the one thing he had not been able to train her in due to lack of space on the skiff. Still, she'd grabbed a gun in zero-grav and seemed prepared enough to use it.

The tall white haired woman floated out and down making her way to Junner as the mercs moved to snatch Fry and Imam out of the foam bubble occupying the area between the skiff and the main door into the Kubla Khan. Neither the docking pilot or the holy man put up much of a fight. It was obvious that the survivors, if one could call the four people extracted from the ratty little lifeboat that, had been on their last legs. Even with the low pressure of the atmosphere in the bay they acted like the air was richer than what they had been breathing. Even weakened as they were, it seemed that one couple had weathered being inside a tin can in space far better than the other did. It was really no surprise then that the blonde woman and the robed man had no fight left. They could barely stand.

No it was the other pair that was the problem. The young woman and the known killer acted like they had just been picked up off a luxury yacht. They were full of fire. Defiant in spite the overwhelming odds. In short, they weathered the desperate conditions that had to have existed on that tiny short-range vessel much better than their companions did. So where it took two mercs to handle Pilot Carolyn Fry and Imam Abu al-Walid it took six to handle Richard B. Riddick and the unknown girl. The killer currently had five guns leveled at him. He glowered at the fake-badges and put his hands out. One of them was brave enough to step forward and slap cuffs onto his wrists. Of course the girl still had Junner's gun pointed at her forehead to ensure his compliance.

Once the ex-ranger was secured Jackie found herself scooped up like a kitten by the scruff of her neck and tossed into the care of a waiting Merc. Junner turned to his mistress, one Antonia Chillingsworth, a member of one of Kova's highest-ranking families. Chillingsworth was eyeing the young woman that Junner had previously pinned to the floor as Jackie tried to clobber the rather piggish fellow who took her from the second in command. Another merc stepped up leaving four of his associates to watch the shackled killer. His associate struggled with the woman in his grasp. Chillingsworth watched him shake the chains at the woman as he threatened her with the same treatment the large man received. It had the opposite impact the pair of mercs had hoped for, causing the slim figure to erupt into quite a struggle. Junner simply stepped back to his mistress' side and watched. Finally they slapped the chains onto her, but not before she'd given the second one a nice kick to the groin. It took a look from Riddick to settle the young lady down. Only then were the four survivors led away.

That was odd enough to take note of. Not only did Riddick sound pained when pressed about the girl, but she acted absolutely wild until he ordered her to stand down. And like Riddick, the girl's fire was protective and proud. It made the 'goll woman remember a magnificent, but dead, race. A race that had supposedly died out a generation before. There were other clues, too. And she had samples to check to girl by. Chillingsworth tilted her head to the side as the thought, 'Unusual spunk, and even more telling, unusual golden brown eyes. I've seen that color only one other place… Something to have the girl tested for.'

Junner waited for his mistress' attention to focus back on him. He stepped forward with a humble posture, "My apologies."

It only took a moment for her to look over at Junner briefly as the last of the four disappeared through the service door; "You know how worthless those are to me. You did well. People die in this line of work, Junner. A handful of men? A small price to pay." Her manner was like someone stroking the chin of a favored poodle. The conversation echoed lightly down the hall so that the words, although distorted, were understandable.

"What will you do with them." Junner's voice sounding rather pleased made it difficult for Riddick to keep the inner beast in check. What he really wanted at this moment was to get his bare hands around that smug bastard's throat. He'd forgotten how satisfying death could actually be when someone deserved it. The fact that Junner dared to threaten Jack and enjoyed doing so pissed Riddick off. Payback was gonna be a bitch.

Then the woman's voice floated toward the con's ears, "Slowly, Junner. Bring Riddick and the girl to my conservatory. I have something beautiful in mind. And Junner, unfreeze some more mercs." He tightened his face and clamped down on his human side. It was going to be a bloody process getting out of this one. There was no time for morals here. He began to take note of the sounds around him, pinpointing likely directions for the engines, the control rooms, and the docking bays. He quickly realized that he needed to see more of the ship in order to figure out how everything fit together.

The halls they were now being escorted and bullied through were dim and dark colored affairs. The ceilings were lower than the average height for such things. Riddick kept his shoulders hunched to avoid bumping his head on the lower beams and pipes that ran along the sides, crossing at odd intervals overhead. There were just inches to spare at his height. He figured these were service tunnels and passages. Places that the owner of the ship would never lower herself into. He had to admit that the cramped darkened areas were clean and well maintained though. Someone took pride in his or her bottom-of-the-totem-pole job. The trip took about a quarter of an hour from docking bay to cell bay.

The cell bay was a bit less cramped and a lot better lit. Most of the doors had indicator lights that their occupants were in cryo. That wouldn't be too hard to slip out of he guessed, if they were going to get lucky. The area looked to be converted over from some type of storage hold. Chillingsworth's words didn't inspire him to believe that their fate would be so simple though. She had something else planned. Damn the complications. After a short trip through the cell bay the four of them were halted in front of a door that had the 'awake prisoner' indicated.

"Here you go. Your new home. Play nice and you might get lucky," the merc in charge teased. The door opened and it was made clear that there was really no other choice. Imam helped Fry into the room following Riddick and Jackie. Inside was another woman. Riddick had smelled her before the door opened due to the rather expensive perfume that lingered on her. She hid her fear well as the four came into her cell. "Sorry about this, Princess. We got no other cells prepped at the moment. They shouldn't give you any trouble." The merc gave the pair in chains a warning glance. "Stay away from the dangerous ones and you'll be fine," he concluded.

She twitched her eyebrow at the mercs tossing the four newcomers inside. Riddick and Jackie were left in chains, the mercs not even attempting to take them off. Imam helped the docking pilot keep feet. The other woman stood, her long silky hair catching the limited light and glistening as she moved, "She does not look well." The voice had a pleasant, if regal tone, to it. Carolyn tried to smile at the woman, thinking to reassure her. Instead she found a thin, but strong, arm slide around her back as she was guided to the rather lumpy cot. The dark-skinned woman kept her eyes on Imam as they walked the blond over to it. Settling down the docking pilot she introduced herself, "I am Lujjan, daughter of…"

"There is no need for a formal introduction here, Your Majesty." Imam cut her off. He looked at his hands and thought of how long it had been since he'd had a proper bath then noticed that Lujjan didn't seem to notice or care as her hand was still extended in greeting. He shifted his feet. She blinked at him. He took her hand in a gentlemanly fashion, holding it lightly and placing his other hand over hers. She slowly smiled a sweet sad smile. Warmth spread through his being. It took a moment for him to find his breath, "I am Abu al-Walid, Imam of the temple of Chrislam in the New Meccan quarter of Helion prime." He tipped his head in deference to her station before continuing, "You are known to me, Lady. But how did you end up here? Were you not married to…"

Lujjan extracted her hand although part of her rather wanted to keep it where it was. With a sigh, she waved her situation off, "He tired of me, and like his other political marriages mine was less useful than he thought it would be. So he sold me. Such are the risks of things I suppose." She took a few steps away from the handsome holy man as a slight fear settled like a smothering blanket over her, "So far I've not been hurt, but I can only fear what will happen to you. Antonia Chillingsworth is not exactly a nice woman." She could see that both Imam and the man in chains took note of the name like they had encountered it before.

The name shifted goggled man's attention from the young woman he was carefully checking over. His fingers froze on Jackie's forehead just below the wound. He went over the rumors he'd caught in the Kovan penal system. Chillingsworth was a well-known, well-connected family. They had regularly gotten special favors from the prison boss and those unlucky sods that had been 'invited' to the parties were never quite the same afterwards. Definitely Kovan. Being known for wealth, he had to wonder what one of them doing out here in space looking for the 'most wanted' list? This Antonia posed a danger great enough to spark visions, but what was her game? He had a feeling that it was not going to be a slave auction or a trip back to slam but something far more devious and deeply evil. Something only a 'goll could pull off…

Had Abu's mind been just a bit clearer he might have been thinking along the same lines as Riddick. As it was, however, his mind was rather blown away by the woman standing in front of him. Where her hand had rested briefly in his still tingled. He found that his concern was entirely for her, "Are you being taken to Kova then?"

"That I do not know. Let me get your friend some water. There is some food here, not much but enough to share," Lujjan indicated a small table as she walked over to the sink in the room. She poured a glass of water and moved back to Carolyn. "Here." The blond took the glass and weakly smiled thanks. The docking pilot sipped at the water. Imam moved over to the small supply of food and portioned it out. As he took two fifths of it over to the pair in chains, Lujjan's voice drifted back into his ears like music from heaven, "What happened that placed the four of you here and why are two of you in chains?"

Imam glanced at the convict and young woman as he neared them. The results of Riddick's training program over the time they were in the skiff were far more evident as Jackie stood next him with her hands shacked together than they had been previously. She was tall, slim, and wiry. Honey brown hair stood up from her head making her appear even more exotic. Although she wore layers of clothing her sleek physique was all too evident. Imam thought about how difficult it had been to keep her inside the foam, and allowed some awe shift onto his face as he looked at the pair. Jackie's face was hard with anger. Her golden eyes glittered like broken glass caught in the sun. Height-wise, she came to nearly large man's forehead already. The simple fact was that Jackie could have done some damage with that gun she'd grabbed if he hadn't pulled her back.

The holy man considered his words carefully, "They think that Mr. Smyth and Miss Badd are a threat, apparently." Jackie noticed the food he was offering and her face softened with a grateful smile as she took it without a word. That done, Abu moved back to Lujjan and Carolyn. The rest of the food was given out although he had trouble convincing the regal woman that it was necessary to eat now while they had the chance. He finally expanded his previous words, "If Chillingsworth is a bad as you suggest, my lady, I fear the worse about our being placed in the same cell as you. Please, find it within you to trust me on this and eat. I beg you." Lujjan looked deep into Abu's eyes and realized that he was absolutely sincere in his belief and terrified to the core of his being.

Riddick watched his friend unwisely move his heart out onto his sleeve. This was going from bad to terrible. He wanted to stride over and grab the holy man by the shoulder and shake him. He wanted to demand that Abu pull his shit together and forget about saving this so-called princess. He wanted to cry that his friend was setting himself up to get hurt very badly because that was all that love was good for. Instead he focused on Jackie before Imam could gaze at him with his lovesick eyes and attempt to make him promise everyone would make it. "Give me your shiv, Babe. That pack is nothing but dead weight."

Jackie put her ration between her teeth to hold it, looked over at the trio on the cot, and fished her blade out so Riddick could cut the straps of her pack. She straightened up and felt the weight gradually shift as the straps were sliced. He handed the blade back. Jackie settled down on her knees. Riddick joined her and the two of them begin going through the odd assortment of items left. Jackie pocketed the jewelry, and anything else that was small and could have value later, making sure that the pocket 'puter was well protected. Any scavenged clothing she was not wearing, tools, and bits of metal underwent careful consideration for its usefulness. Riddick passed the tools off to Imam who concealed them in his small bag next to his holy book and prayer rug.

Lujjan watched them, "Not a threat enough to search? Or perhaps too much of one?"

Fry looked sideways at her. "Mr. Smyth just killed 11 mercs in under the span of a few minutes…" she paused, "They were shooting at us, so I'd call it self defense, really."

Lujjan looked at Riddick with surprise. "Ex-military," he grumbled as if it was reason enough. The regal woman got a look of understanding and turned to Imam. Jackie noted that the holy man was rather smitten with this new woman. She hoped their captor didn't turn that against them.

It did not take long after the food was gone for the mercs to open the door back up. "All right, everyone up." The lead fellow glanced at the five of them. "You too princess. Looks like it is time for you to go."

"Go?" Lujjan asked. "Are we planetside already?"

The merc snarled at her, "Don't go making trouble. You've been a charm to escort; I think the preacher's credits might get you off this boat… but I don't know for sure. Junner will tell you."

Jackie didn't like the sound of that. To her way of thinking that meant that they had been watched the entire time and Imam's clear infatuation with Lujjan pulled her into what was already a bad situation. One of the mercs leveled his gun at the slim young woman. "Stay back, got it?" Jackie backed away from Riddick at his slight signal. The mercs wheeled in a table and Riddick was immobilized. He was moved out and the merc with his gun on her ordered, "Move." Jackie followed the table out. Lujjan, Fry and Imam were ushered out under guard. Their path took them down even more twisted service passages. Eventually though they found them selves in the long center of the ship, which was lined with cryo-chambers.

"Have you ever seen anything like this before?" Fry whispered, awestruck by the sheer size of the ship and the advanced state of the technology. Having only worked with the lower scaled shipping sector, the slick round tubes of plexi with their chrome fittings were beyond anything she'd imagined.

"Merc ships? Plenty." Riddick answered. "Kovan ships? A few. Just trying to figure out how it all goes together." He was rather more confident at this point though that he would in fact figure out that particular puzzle. It helped that they were generally being taken up through the layers of the ship, and he figured that the escape route he'd want would be that direction. He looked at Jack who was being rather quiet. He wanted to reassure her, but he didn't want to get her into even more trouble. She was avoiding his eyes at the moment, and her face had settled into the unreadable calm that he'd drilled into her. Part of him was proud of that accomplishment, and part of him was kicking itself for insisting upon teaching her that skill.

The soft shuffle of their feet and swish of clothing took over for conversation until a soft voice interrupted, "It is a plantation operation." Riddick shifted his gaze from his mate to his friend as Imam continued, "A boat like this loads up a port, signs on as many men as it can hold, then goes out for months, sometimes years at a time. However long it takes to fill their stores."

It took a moment for the ex-ranger to deal with his slight surprise that Imam knew so much. He'd assumed that the holy man's relatively sheltered life had no place for such horrors, "Except a merchant rig's usually harvesting ore, maybe crops, not people." It was with some difficulty that Riddick tore his eyes off his friend's troubled face and set them back on Jackie. He finally managed to make eye contact and realized that she blamed herself for this turn of events. Of course she couldn't know that they were on a pirate's ship that had a closed database. Even if the rest of the 'vers thought him dead, this ship, in its isolation knew otherwise.

"Maybe I fucked up the vid, I don't know. The guild should've paid Johns' estate for the death-bond and dropped it," Jackie whispered. Riddick passed her a look that read 'you've done nothing wrong, babe.' She managed a weak smile back. That expression made her feel a million times better. The uncertainty of the situation still weighted on her shoulders, but at least she knew that he did not blame her for this mess.

"Captured bounties on one side, contracted manpower on the other?" Fry asked. Although it seemed like no body heard her, Carolyn noticed that Riddick was paying attention. He gave her a nearly invisible shrug. She made a face about the merc breathing down her neck, before glancing back at the rows of deathly still bodies that graced the corridor. It was hard to tell if the scruffy men and women suspended at death's door were prisoners or mercs anyhow. They all looked the same.

"Just add heat," Lujjan added. Her comment was said lightly and mostly ignored. She didn't mind really. It was clear that the other four had been through a lot together and that they communicated on a level that was not altogether verbal. It was a subtle language of looks, movements, and inflections that she realized only time would reveal to her.

Riddick focused on Abu; "You know a lot about this shit… For a holy man."

"I hear things," Imam mumbled. They walked a few meters in silence, the only sounds the boots on the metal floor and the faint whir of the table as it bore its cargo.

Of course Riddick just couldn't stay quiet for long, as the merc who had been in charge of Jack before was the same one annoying Carolyn with his rather suggestive intrusion into her personal space. Fry was being quite strong about it but clearly she was uncomfortable with the attention. The situation had gone on long enough for Riddick to be feeling just slightly pissed off about the harassment she was suffering. Time for it to stop. The killer quirked an eyebrow at the overweight man, "Must be a special kind of desperate dick signs on to this." That got his attention off the docking pilot, as did the glare Riddick managed even with the goggles in place. He got slammed in mouth with the guy's gun for his trouble.

"Shut up!"

The merc had no idea who he was fucking with. Riddick moved his head with the blow to lessen the damage but slit his eyes as he tasted blood in his mouth. He casually licked the wound as he thought about how he was going to kill the man. Danger crackled off him even though he was securely bound to the table. The recoil from the blow was rather slow and controlled; the voice that he spoke with filled with menace; "You're the exception, of course. For you, it's life experience." Delivered like a threat, meant as a promise. Sadly the merc was too dense to understand that his life was already forfeit, as Riddick would not exit the ship until he'd made sure the promise was kept.

They reached the end of the hall and came to a stop. "You do have a plan?" Fry asked sounding panicked that she was being forced into the mercy of men that could do horrible things to her. Riddick twitched at her, willing her to stay calm and not do anything stupid. The con could feel her clutching the edge of the table in a bid for just a moment more of safety. He looked at Imam. The holy man read his silent message to keep an eye on the pilot so that she didn't crumble under the pressure. "You've gotten out of worse," Fry continued, "Hey!" One of the mercs grabbed her shoulder. Imam took the blonde's hand to assist the mercs in getting her away from Jackie and Riddick.

Lujjan was already following the guards' suggestions and had moved away. But Carolyn fought being separated. "Come on princess. This is where you get off." He said.

"You too, preacher," said another. Imam nodded and pulled Fry toward him, seeking to protect her from her own foolishness. They began to move off down another dim hallway heading opposite of where the pair in chains was going.

Riddick tried to plead with one of the mercs in the other group that was taking Imam and Fry, "Take the girl with you." It was a last ditch effort on his part to keep them together as much as possible. The mercs ignored him. Jack felt a cold fear settle in her gut at the separation.

"I will pray." Imam stated as he, Lujjan and Carolyn were led off.

Abu's words drew Richard's eyes toward him, "Not for me," he countered. But the look shared between friends spoke volumes. 'Yes, for you, my most honored friend. And for all of us, because I have faith in you even if you have none in yourself,' the dark eyes of Imam met the goggles but reached the quicksilver orbs behind them. Their eyes locked until Riddick's table was turned enough to break the contact. The ex-ranger felt at though his heart would burst. So much trust, so much faith – in him. He'd never seen the likes of it before, aside from the eyes of his mate. He knew at that moment that someone was going to die. He had no doubt that fate was going to rip one of his, did he dare think it? – Friends – away from his life forever and there was not a damn thing he could do about it.

Riddick and Jackie were ushered down another hall. Jackie had a big gun at her back, like this new Merc thought she was a serious danger. Jackie stole a look at Riddick. His face was unmoving. Jackie couldn't be sure but she thought he was fearful. 'Riddick, afraid? That's a laugh.' But she couldn't shake the feeling that he was scared and that frightened her more than anything did. There was one small blessing to this, she reflected. At least they were together even if she did have a miniature cannon aimed at her back. The Mercs moved them into a sterile room and locked Jackie down to a table. Then they did the same to Riddick. They were given a few moments alone as the guards positioned themselves in the hallway. "You okay, Riddick?" she whispered.

She heard him shift slightly and turned her head to see him looking at her, "Yeah – babe. You?" Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. She bit her lip. It was something he had not seen her do in a very long time. "I can't promise anything, babe."

"I know. It's alright." She looked away as her face became closed off again. He was grateful for the goggles and found himself wondering when she'd become better at hiding her emotions than he was. Her next words made him grin inside, banishing the pain like the sun chasing away fog, "I'm still waiting for you to kick their collective asses, you realize? You aren't gonna let me down are you?"

"I'd never dream of it, Jack." He watched as she looked back over to him with a knowing smile that he matched in spite of himself.

The sound of the door opening made the shared smiles fade back into masks of indifference. Junner entered with a medic. The second man was rather a kindly looking fellow, dark haired and slightly tanned. There was no sign of cyborg enhancement on him and unlike Junner he carried no weapons. As Junner stood watch, The medic picked up a device and moved over to Jackie. "It's going to feel like liquid fire, and there is little I can do to change that, miss. It will pass," He then implanted something into her neck. Jackie was bowled over by the intense pain that shot through her from whatever the medic had injected into her. It was so overwhelming that she didn't even feel him take a blood sample. Nor did she notice that Riddick received the same treatment. When she became aware of the room again the medic was running tests on his blood samples. He commented, "Chillingsworth's tastes are getting younger each year. What did she do?"

Junner raised an eyebrow at the medic, "Just tell me yes or no. That is all you need concern yourself with."

The medic looked at the screen, then in an amazed voice said, "Um -- yes. And she's already under vinculum."

Junner raised an eyebrow at the medic, narrowed his eyes at the killer as he took in the meaning of the medic's words. This would create a wrinkle in his mistress' plans but then, it could be useful. "Heal the wound to her face, you fool."

Jackie looked over at Riddick. 'I'm sorry,' she thought as he continued to look at the ceiling. The medic came over and cleaned the wound then applied an instant healing spray to it. Then they were let up and Riddick was put into the same type of cuffs as Jackie wore. "Why the girl?" Riddick asked. The medic looked at him and realized that he didn't understand. For a moment the medic considered answering, but he had no time before he was dismissed. The young woman gave the medic a reassuring look that was strangely wise.

Junner ignored the ex-ranger and indicated for he and Jack to walk. Jackie brushed her mate's arm as she passed, and Junner noticed that he took the suggestion from her, stepping in beside her protectively. He wondered how much his mistress had noticed or if this bit of news would sweeten the pot. Junner made sure that he kept pace with his charges. The Merc squad followed behind them. The hall took them into a large creepy room, lit in blues. Riddick instantly knew it was _that_ room. He froze on the threshold. Junner headed down the stairs ahead of them.

"Leave." Junner ordered the mercs.

Jackie and Riddick walked down the steps into a gallery filled with the most twisted, realistic statues either of them had ever seen. Jackie stayed close. Riddick let out a disgusted grunt as he took everything in. They walked around a large central cone of bodies twisted into sick parodies of the human form. Jackie tried not to look at it too closely. Riddick drew her over to one stature, than past it to another. Jackie dug in her heels. She froze at the sight of the plaque underneath the seated, corded-muscled, silently screaming nude form. It read "Killer of Men: Furya." Suddenly she knew why she was here instead of with Imam and Carolyn. This was what the test was for. Her eye were glued to it, her conscious world shrank down to this single figure.

Her mate felt the ice settle inside, "Umm," he commented. So, that was why they wanted Jackie. Gotta play it cool here. Riddick raised a hand to touch the figure, curious about how they had gotten it to look so realistic. The skin texture, the contrast with the teeth and the tongue… And it licked him. There was no mistaking it. These were not statures. "The Hell--" he pulled back in horror before clamping down and getting control of himself. An unseen door opened. Junner dropped them both to their knees. Jackie crumpled to the floor with a moan, "All right." Riddick rumbled dangerously, "Now you have my attention." He clenched both hands into fists as Jackie slowly raised herself back into a kneeling position.

"A necessary precaution." It was the cybernetic witch-bitch. Jackie rolled her eyes, but it was hard to tell if it was from pain or annoyance. Antonia circled to stand in front of them, her clothing making a silky rustle as she moved, "Either of you attempt anything uncivilized – Killing me for instance – I or Junner will detonate the explosive charges implanted in your necks and sleep very well tonight." She and Junner held up matching remotes as Chillingsworth ran a hand under Jackie's chin, tightening her grip as she lifted the woman-child up to her feet. Riddick stood. "Walk with me." She let go of Jackie after noting again her rich honey-colored eyes.

"You're not putting us on pedestals."

"No. Of course not." The woman turned away, "You're strictly for my private collection." She indicated the cone in the center of the room, "But the girl—is another matter." She led them through the collection as if showing it off to a buyer rather than a couple destined to join it.

Riddick decided that he really didn't give a shit, but was puzzled as to why she was doing this, "Um. Okay. You go through all the trouble to catch these guys, and this is what you do with them." Jackie kept herself close to Riddick as they walked but stayed quiet.

"You're missing the point." Chillingsworth said as if speaking to a child.

"What point?" he argued, "You got a billion UD's standing around collectin' dust." Riddick did not like the fact that this crazy woman was looking to add he and Jackie to the collection either.

"You underestimate their value, Riddick. They are priceless. Each, at one time, the most wanted man, woman, or race in the known universe." She gestured around and stroked on of the female forms as they passed. Jackie shivered. "The number of lives ended at the hands of those living and breathing in this room is incalculable."

"Ain't what I'd call living." Jackie had to agree with Riddick's assessment. These poor sods were likely insane from the awareness, tormented right out of their minds. No matter what they had done, none of them deserved the half-life that this horrid form of cryo sentenced them to. Chillingsworth's next words confirmed her fear.

The bitch-witch was stroking one of the males now, "Just the same, I assure you that they are all very much alive. Each one sustained in a form of cryo so profound that seconds seem weeks and to blink an eye is a day's work. The brain, however, continues to function unimpeded. The mind continues to think and feel, swarming with whatever dark thoughts it's trapped alone with, as it will be for hundreds of years." Jackie had gone numb and barely noticed that they had started moving again, passing through a red curtain. "So much more fitting a fate than dropping them off at the nearest slam. Here they are appreciated for what they truly are, transformed into objects on par with their lives' work. And why? Because I gave them the audience they so desperately desired, the recognition they bought with the blood or others. I understood their actions, stripped free of moral convention. Don't you see? They're something greater now, Riddick. Something more than they ever were before. -- **Art**." They stopped in a circular curtained room with a low table and lounge in the middle.

"Lady, your taste sucks." The comment jolted Jackie back to the present, and if she hadn't been so mortified at what this insane woman was gonna do to her and Riddick she might have found Riddick's answer hilariously funny.

"I expected as much. Junner." With that Junner raised the curtains to reveal a pit, "You see, Riddick, there is a fundamental difference between you and I."

"Yeah. You're a psychopath."

That got an annoyed look from the 'goll woman. Antonia shook her head at Riddick before answering, "You don't appreciate art. But I believe the reason for this is something very different…" she reached up and touched Riddick's face and Jackie found herself growling, some primitive, deep sound that she would have never guessed she could make. "…than you or anyone else might think. You're an artist."

Riddick echoed Jackie's growl and shook the woman's hands off his face. "I've been called a lot of things in my day. That ain't one of 'em."

"You make art, Riddick, not analyze it. You shape it with your own hands," The woman turned her attention to Jackie and raised her shirt looking at her lean, defined form. She ignored the continued growling from the pair, "carve it from flesh and bone." She moved away from the young woman, "But a man like you does not understand such a thing by being lectured." Mercs entered the room at that point and positioned themselves along the walls. "You must experience it." She signaled Junner again and the lights went blood red.

"Oh, shit." Riddick walked out to the ledge to see Carolyn, Lujjan, and Imam hanging by their necks, cuffed and balancing on globes

"Imam, Fry!" Jackie tried to run forward only to have Junner pull her back.

"I do hope you have a plan…" Carolyn said up at him.


	16. To Watch A Master Work

To Watch a Master Work…

Elsewhere on the _Kubla Khan_: There was only one thing that Harley knew; she despised the man she had been ordered to de-ice. Not only was she to wake him up but it was her duty to keep him under control. 'As if he could be controlled,' she sighed. Harley straightened her green and gray environsuit before stepping into the atmosphere-negative dimly lit hallway. She compulsively double checked the name and number of the merc in question and was disappointed to find that it hadn't changed. Reaching the de-lousing chamber prepped for use she made a face before beginning the sequence to resuscitate the first of the mercs she's been ordered to wake up.

A confirmation request, "revive: Toombs?" popped up on her handheld control. It almost seemed as if the ship itself was stating 'Are you _really_ sure?' Of course she wasn't. And Junner had been unyielding when she'd tried to get a different merc for her crew. She paused with her finger hovering over the command for a long, long second. Another sigh and Harley forced her finger down on the 'yes' key. She was going to regret this. With a faint whir the machinery set to work retrieving one of the numerous cryo-tubes. Out of hundreds, Harley reflected, it would be a lifesaver if just one – a very specific one – malfunctioned. The tube hooked up with the reviving chamber and the merc's lifesigns sprawled onto her control pad. 'Toombs is a healthy as a 20-year-old,' she made a face. Nothing was going right today.

At least the machine has no humanity to it as it unceremoniously ejected the wild haired scruffy bastard into the de-lousing chamber. Harley always liked this part, watching the various mercs groggily landing in heaps and being gassed. Toombs was no exception. The de-icing was so speedy that he was still out of it as he fell. He landed on his knees with a grunt. Harley frowned at his form; Toombs remained kneeling for a few seconds. As she stepped forward he charged the glass, "Miss me?"

She stepped back and collected herself. This was why she disliked him so fuckin' much. He had no class. He was careless. And he had a bad habit of getting everyone around him killed. Harley didn't bother to answer Toombs' wild-eyed question. Her hands were shaking. She fixed him a cold glare before telling the chamber to delouse him.

Toombs however had lungs that could survive just about anything. He made a show of 'showering' in the pale gas that flooded over him. "Mmm. Fresh as a daisy." He knew it annoyed the shit out of the woman who has been placed in charge of him, even without knowing her personally.

Harley snatched the packet with his name on it and opened the port to the de-lousing chamber. She flung it into the drawer and slammed it closed. Without giving him time to back talk she ordered, "Suit up and report. Must be something big, them taking you off ice after what you pulled."

He was unfazed. "Sister, I certainly aim to find out," he smirked. It took him only moments to tear into his gear and pull out the one thing he missed. Toombs looked at his gun with relish.

oOoOoOoOo

"I do hope you have a plan…" Carolyn Fry prayed that Riddick could somehow get them out of this. She could see that the ex-ranger was fighting with himself, struggling not to turn on the white haired woman standing just behind him and off to his left. It was kind of nice, she thought, that he was pissed off enough to nearly forget himself and want to strangle someone with his bare hands. It was also sort of scary that she was looking at him to save her, yet again, from someone who was supposed to be on the same side of the law as she generally thought herself on. Her legs were rather wobbly and weak still from the weeks spent on the skiff. It was her own damn fault, really. She was the one that refused to exercise with Jack once in a while. And thinking of Jack… the young woman, because there was no way to see her as a child any longer, was slowly coming into view struggling every step of the way. 

Jackie attempted to elbow the man taller than her mate who was holding her, nearly unable to breathe through the panic she was feeling. It was overwhelming. The last time she'd felt this way Johns had showered her in mud and rock before dying a justified death. For a moment she was small again and the man holding her was someone else. Then her vision corrected itself. She smelled her mate, musky and warm, off to her left and Chillingsworth wafted with a faintly sweet, slightly nutty, and floral scent off past his side, her feet making a light tapping noise. Junner's rather stale soapy odor was weakly annoying. Her friends and Lujjan all nearly screamed up at her with the panic driven fear that their scents belayed. And there was something else… an undercurrent that was alien. She went still, focused on that foreign smell of something inhuman.

The bitch-witch must have indicated for Junner to walk forward because Jackie's view of the pit and her friends suspended by collars – nooses for all practical purposes – was getting better not worse. Hanging limply now, all her senses focused toward the far side of the pit, she was developing a very bad feeling about this. Something made the hair on her arms under the layers of sleeves rise as though a cold breeze wafted over bare flesh. Carolyn was looking rather weak, as though she'd been sick. Balancing on the sphere she was standing on couldn't be easy for her. Lujjan was trying to get the docking pilot to focus on anything else besides her shaky legs with little success. Imam was wearing a brave face as though that could make the entire mess vanish.

The ex-ranger was surprised that he'd been given the freedom to walk forward. Jack's scent spiked in panic then tapered off as she got herself back under control. He listened to her go still. She had caught some subtle clue that he had not yet. Riddick scanned the pit with his eyes. He avoided Abu's face, noting the pattern on the floors and walls instead. They glowed blood red, casting their ruddy light over the entire room. With his goggles on he could see that detail. He pondered the purpose of the pattern for a moment. Jackie hung limply to his right. The animal darkness was already close to the surface, holding to its promise to respond at a moment's notice and to behave when not needed. For once, he was glad he'd made that deal with his demon over Jack. He had much more control over himself than he'd ever had. He could hear his hostess becoming restless behind him and spoke to cut her off, "What do you want?" Riddick rumbled deeply.

Her voice was an odd sound, a mixture of ice and silk, "To watch you work." He felt her move up beside him with the ease of someone who knew no danger. "I've spent the latter half of my life observing fantastic things--" she turned to look at Riddick's impassive face in the scarlet glare, "The work of terrible men, men such as yourself--" she crossed between Jackie and Riddick. Pausing near what she thought might be the persuasive element, she studied the impassive man some more, "But it's always after the fact…." Antonia's voice trailed off as she ran her hands over Jackie, feeling her arms, her ribs, her abdomen and noticing that everywhere was toned to nearly the same degree as the man she was taunting. "…When the moment of Bloody Creation is cold and passed," she picked up the thread of her speech again, "That changes now." She signaled Junner again and doors on the far side of the pit opened up. Carolyn and Imam watched the door squeal open and then looked up at Riddick. Jackie resumed her struggle in Junner's grip. "I need to see it, Riddick. I need to see it with my own eyes as it happens."

Fighting for someone's entertainment had never been something he'd done willingly. Sure, he'd fought in the slam but that was always for personal gain. And, yeah, he'd fought on the run; it was a matter of survival. But this? He was disgusted with the entire deal. It looked, to him, like Chillingsworth had set up her own private gladiatorial pit and was turning the champions into trophies. If she had been truly shallow she would have simply demanded that he kill his former companions. But that was not to be. She had an opponent in mind that would challenge him. Of course to get him to agree she had made a bet that he had indeed become friends with those she found him with. Sadly, she was right. He didn't want to place his friends in any more danger.

But could he save them from whatever it was that was being let loose? He knew that something alien, with an inhuman scent, had been released and was already heading this way. It had a slightly metallic odor, natural not mechanical. It was likely a soft-tissue creature, perhaps using venom of some kind. He guessed from her reaction that Jack must have already known. So her nose, with time, would be better than his. No surprise there. Leaving her up here was out of the question, and her needed her near. He wasn't about to do this without her. His gaze scanned the ceiling and spotted another cable. He narrowed his eyes. It was a risk he had to take… The killer refused to fight if she was up here in Junner's control, "Go to hell."

Antonia was already settling down on her seat and was unsurprised by his refusal, "Oh, I thought you might be that way." She made a flippant movement before looking at her second, "Junner, add the girl." This played right into Riddick's quickly forming plans. He had to trust that his mate would think on her feet.

Jackie was rather startled by how quickly she found herself slapped roughly into a neck chain with a stiff collar. Before she had come to stock with that, Junner had tossed out her away from himself and she was swinging over the pit with no support. The others in the pit let out gasps of dismay. If Jackie had thought she couldn't breathe before she was absolutely choking now. It was imperative that the pressure on her throat lessen. Without thinking she reached over her head and grabbed the chain with her bound hands while still swinging. She was instantly grateful for the weeks of pull-ups with Riddick's boots tied to her ankles.

Riddick watched until he was sure that she wasn't going to strangle. The beast inside itched to break out. Jackie glanced at him as she twisted, signaling that she had things under control for a moment. He let the beast go, spinning toward where his hostess was lounging and moving across the short distance with a speed that Junner had no chance of matching. "I get outta there alive, you'll see it again…" his face twisted into a snarl as he moved into Chillingsworth's personal space, "_this_ close." They were nose to nose. Anyone in their right mind would have been quaking in their boots.

Only Antonia had never been in her right mind. "No, Riddick." She caressed his chin with the side of a blade that he instinctively knew was his own make. "I want your masterpiece," the blade twisted until the point was pressed into his flesh. He ignored it as he continued to growl at the woman teasing him. Behind his back another problem developed as Jackie felt her hands slide on the cable. Gagging as she slipped, she thought, 'there has to be a better way…what if I was higher up?' Slowly working her legs up over her head, Jackie remembered how some of the more agile workers on Sigma 3 had learned to loop rope while climbing the few remaining trees. 'Maybe I can loop this around one leg…' She heard the metal blade clatter onto the floor, "An artist is nothing without his instrument."

Junner walked up to Riddick as he was retrieving the weapon. "When we meet again," Riddick told him, "I'm gonna bury this – in your eye." Riddick lifted his goggles and studied the man. Junner simply pointed. As the killer turned he noticed that the piggish merc was rather in a good position. One of the other fake badges that annoyed him was close too. Time to make good on that promise…

"Let him in." The woman told those guarding the edge. There was no way in hell that the pair Riddick targeted would get away. He fixed the overweight one with the same snarl he'd given him back in the hall when Carolyn was being harassed. That halted the merc's steps just enough to keep him in range. Jackie remembered her shiv and palmed it off up her sleeve from her sock as her leg and hand crossed. She got her leg looped into the cable and raised herself into a crouch suspended in midair. Back on the upper platform the thin merc standing in front of Riddick decided he was moving forward too slow and that he was going to help him get into the pit. He should have moved away.

The killer burst out, quickly taking the two mercs. A well-aimed slash later, the thin one was dead. As both blood and body flew Riddick had tackled the heavy merc and sailed over the railing. He made sure the piggish fellow remained on the bottom to cushion his landing. They hit the floor with a wet thud and a moan. 'So much for simply lettin' me in,' Riddick though with a smirk as he rolled away from the smelly merc and moved toward his friends. Three steps away from the landing point he heard Antonia order, "Go ultraviolet."

The pit went black. It was a deep cool black. Riddick took a moment to let his eyes adjust and noticed that the walls and floors shed a soft purple light. It was faint and he doubted that the others could see anything at all. Jackie's cable creaked as she shifted her weight slightly. The outlines of the globes revealed themselves through the distortion of they reflections off their surfaces. The alien thing was getting closer.

Riddick was right, none of them could see. Not a damn thing. Jackie couldn't even be sure of where anyone was. But she heard the sound of Riddick's boots on the floor below her and knew he was on his feet. "I was on a pilgrimage. Just a pilgrimage," Imam said softly. He was blind under the current conditions. Where he'd survived the stress of the skiff with his beads in hand he didn't dare move for them here. He had seen Jackie move into a crouch with one foot balanced in a loop of cable suspended above his own head before the lights went off. Fry, he noted, had watched Jack like she had never really seen her before, the amazement drawing the docking pilot's attention away from the weakness of her own legs. For that he was grateful. Lujjan shifted her position in the dark making her globe rustle against the floor. She tried to stay calm but something was moving in the dark near her. Her position placed her closest to the door and the air was making strange movements.

The darkness prompted a question; "This is bad, huh?" It was Carolyn. She was sounding less shaky.

"Yeah, I'd say so." Jackie chimed in sounding rather distant due to her height on them all, "I can't see." 'Okay, Shirah…. That sight thing would be good now….'

Riddick interrupted, "Give it a minute --" There was silence as they waited. Of course with his night vision he could see. At first there was nothing. Then his eyes picked up faint outlines of tentacles. He couldn't be sure of the numbers though. He just hoped that there was only one of the things, whatever it was. "Imam, pray," This was beyond bad. He had no idea how it killed, but he was sure that it was deadly. The form split into two, colors brightening as their tentacles moved in distracting patterns. Riddick heard the others gasp as one in alarm. So, now they could see the opponent. One was cool-toned, in aqua, blue and green. The other was warm-toned, rust, scarlet, and hot pink. The movements became threatening as though the intelligence possessed by the creatures knew that they needed to intimidate.

He turned sideways as the creatures advanced on him. Their colors darkened as they went into attack mode. The merc got to his feet. The closer creature swiped at the man with a tentacle that went invisible in the dark. Gunfire sprayed the path where the appendage had been. It hit nothing but allowed Jackie take note of everyone's positions. The merc lowered his gun and stood, staring at the emptiness for a split second before the creature snared him with all four glowing arms and pulled him in. He screamed and shot the ceiling. As he did so the creature injected him and he swelled, bursting into glowing greenish goo. Fry and Imam wheezed in horror. Lujjan looked stricken. Jackie swallowed, 'Okay, maybe I don't want to see.'

Back on the ground the killer studied the display of inhuman death with dispassion. He felt cold. His friends didn't deserve to be in here with him. He wasn't even sure that the merc deserved to die quite like that. He had little time to think such sympathetic thoughts though. The warm toned creature advanced on him. He focused on it, ignoring his companions for the time being. The shackles were a hindrance, but he was able to play 'keep-away' from the thing as he studied it. The creature attempted to distract him with a hypnotic dance every now and then punctuated with a thrust forward.

Riddick's responses were varied. At times he dodged to the right or left. He took the opportunity to duck under and spin to the side when it presented itself. He even slashed out with his shiv to drive the tentacles back. It wasn't until he noticed the second creature approaching that he began to feel a little desperate. He needed the shackles off. Thrusting his arms toward an incoming limb he hoped that the chains would bust, but instead found his arms looped around it. He had no choice but to hang on as he was lifted into the air. He felt a ripple that caught the chains and was aware that the end of the tentacle was getting closer. Then with a flick, he was in the air, flying backwards.

He hit hard, vaguely hoping that it was the wall he collided with. The surface moved. 'Nope, not the wall,' he ruefully noted. The scream and gasping noise was feminine, but not Fry. So he'd hit Lujjan's support. He was slightly aware of the secondary impact as the sphere and he came to a stop. "Riddick? You've got to get up!" His mate's voice distantly roused him. He heard the rustle of another globe as Imam rolled his sphere over and under the princess' feet. The pair grabbed each other and the ex-ranger could smell their fear. He shook his head and began to regain his feet. The faint sound of metal on metal sounded like someone trying to cut cable. Then the sound stopped and another noise, lightly groaning metal, came to his ears. Good, Jack was trying to get free.

The scream convinced Jackie that she was no use up where she was. She had to get down somehow. The cable would not cut. The catch on the collar, however, was not that good. Jackie began to pry at the hinges on the collar around her neck with the blade of her shiv. Once she got the collar off she could maybe get Fry and Imam to safety.

Riddick crouched. The creature advanced on him and he swung his shiv with a well-timed blow. It was enough to get the creature to back away. Riddick advanced with a series of blocks, pressing his advantage. Imam and Lujjan watched the eerie and deadly display until Imam spotted one of the tentacles and a glimpse of the creature behind it, sneaking up on Fry. He looked at Lujjan. She nodded. Abu felt her arms tighten around him as he grabbed the rope over his head. Then in unison they sent their support hurling across the floor. The globe flattened the creature after the docking pilot. In spite the difficulty Imam now found himself in, warmth flooded through him.

Jackie heard them struggling. With a burst of strength she got the collar off and landed lightly on the floor, thinking she could roll a sphere over. Riddick also heard his friends in trouble. He was closer than Jack was. The creature after Fry was turning toward him, while his pervious opponent was now after the pair hanging in midair. 'Fuck this,' he swore as he reassessed the situation. It was time to stop fooling around and kill his opponents. Only he needed to save Imam's life first… He turned, dodged the greenish creature, jumped on the back of the ruddy creature taking off one of its limbs in the process, and cut his friend down. That the swing managed to free the woman holding onto Abu was just a bonus. The three landed with a hard thud before Jack could act. Lujjan had not been ready for this, her position placing her leg under her. It snapped with a sickening crunch. 'Broken – something,' Jackie noted from the other side of the room. "Get her to her feet!" Riddick ordered as he set himself between the danger and the holy man still on the floor.

Both creatures had gone dark with the last defeat, "I cannot see!" Imam protested. Lujjan groaned.

As the faint outline of the tentacles surrounding the inhuman forms became visible again, Riddick reassured him, "You don't want to."

"Jackie?" Imam asked.

"Here. Down. Coming over." Flashes of dim purple allowed Jackie to move over and help Imam get Lujjan up. Her hands were as bound as theirs were, but she had a shiv, which she passed off to Imam, so that he could get the locks open on the cuffs. Imam turned his full attention to getting the shackles off while Jack kept her eyes peeled for any sign that either of the creatures was heading toward them. Riddick stood in front of her glad for the moment that Carolyn was being ignored. Both creatures seemed to think that the bulk of their enemies were right here and kept advancing. There was a pause as the hypnotic pattern of weaving motion resumed only slightly diminished by the stump the scarlet creature bore where its tentacle was missing. They brightened back slowly to being fully visible for the maximum impact on their targets. But Riddick was like a snake charmer, smoothly weaving his body against their rather regular attack pattern.

"They're gonna kill him!" Lujjan said. Imam paused in his effort to free her, curled one hand on her shoulder and tried to calm her. He then concentrated on the cuffs in an attempt to get them off while he had some light.

Riddick watched the pair of creatures move in perfect counterpoint to each other. He focused on them, ready for their next move. The two creatures started to move apart and he stepped back defensively. They blinked dark again. The creatures separated. The green creature targeted Riddick and the other went for Fry. "Babe? Fry," he ordered. Jackie had no weapon, but she rushed over to a globe and tried again to get the second creature away from the docking pilot. Acting blindly she heaved the sphere toward the general area where Carolyn was. This time the creature was ready for the tactic. It gracefully dodged to one side and whipped out a tentacle toward Fry. It was not expecting the docking pilot to push her support into it. Both globe and creature went rolling away. But that left the blond hanging. She was choking even as she weakly grabbed the rope with her shackled hands.

Jackie tried to make her way over to the woman in hopes of catching her feet. She had to dodge Riddick's fight, whipping tentacles, and faintly glowing goo. "Calm down. It's under control. It is under control, right, Riddick?" Jackie asked. She reached the docking pilot and curled her arms around the other woman's waist. Carolyn took several deep breaths of air, feeling much better that Jackie was there. The reprieve didn't last long. The second creature that had been attacking Fry came back in its stealth mode. Jack felt the air whoosh past her and tried to sidestep while holding onto the docking pilot. The creature walloped the slim young woman out of the way. "Oophf--" came the soft noise as the wind got knocked out of her. This was followed by the noise of Jackie connecting with the wall. Riddick looked that way in time to see the creature's casual tentacle flip and it heading for Fry again. It brightened so that it was visible.

"We must do something!" Lujjan tried to move to the docking pilot's defense even with her broken leg. Imam held her back with a sad head shake. They had no chance of stopping the thing, no time to get over to the blonde woman. Even if he had been able to reach Fry he had no idea how to fight something he could not see. He held onto Lujjan thinking that she was being reckless over someone she barely knew and feeling guilty that he didn't have the backbone to save someone whose actions had saved him.

To make matters even harder, Riddick's battle was nearly directly between them and the docking pilot. Imam prayed that Jackie was able to regain her feet… Breathless moments passed. Time slowed to a crawl. He had a flash of Shazza in the cloud of hatchlings, their tiny forms devouring the noble woman right before their eyes. Then his vision returned to the now and he watched as the ruddy creature slowly, ever so sluggishly, reared back its stinger. Fry screamed. The sound moved slowly and distorted. The glowing appendages folded around her blocking the docking pilot from view.

There was a groan from near the floor. Jackie was struggling to her feet. That snapped Imam's mindset back into time. Riddick was too busy with his own fight to help other than to yell at Jack, "Get the fuck _up_, Jack!" The creature he was dealing with shot forward with its stinger and Riddick thrust his shackles into its path. The chains shattered. As he dodged away he heard his mate scrambling toward Fry again. Part of him wanted her far, far away from the battle, yet he was proud of her unswerving devotion and trust. He'd told he to help Carolyn and she was determined to do just that. He heard her leap at the creature and saw her land on its 'head.' Her shackled arms didn't let her actually hug the thing, but she was able to get two good handfuls of tentacles rather high up. She threw her legs around the creature for good measure.

Jackie was assaulted by the strong iodine odor that came off the alien thing she was grappling. The creature spun away from its target and worked to loosen the woman clinging to it. Up above the desperate battle Antonia Chillingsworth was thrilled beyond all expectation at this development, "Beautiful, beautiful creatures…"

Junner spoke in response, "Shrill are an exquisite species."

"I'm talking about the Furyans," she said in annoyance, rolling her eyes and looking over at Junner with a fond expression. She turned back to the battle to find that while positions had changed a little that she'd not missed much.

The monster, a shrill Jackie now knew it was called, had no shoulders. She was sliding down its body, drawing its tentacles back from the center spinning structure. This made the creature twist this way and that as it tried to get her off. She was not worried about getting slime under her fingernails and readily clawed into the tentacles in her hands in a bid to hang on. Fry made a wild kick toward the brightest part of the monster – the brain-like central structure. Her shoe got caught between the spinning protective ribs that surrounded it. The creature let off a shrill, high pitched sound of alarm. 'Well, that explains the species name, don't it?' Jackie thought wincing from the noise.

Riddick suddenly knew how to kill the damn things. "Punch it!" he ordered. Carolyn tried desperately to toe off her shoe with the other foot before her caught leg became damaged from the wild movements and thrashing the creature was making. At the current moment Jackie was more worried about the docking pilot than the creature she cling to. Suddenly she noticed Fry's legs drop away.

She had no time to wonder though, "Wha -- ?" Jackie and creature went spinning past Riddick as Carolyn's shoe came off her foot. She was really kinda glad she still had the cuffs on at this point because the temptation was to fling an arm out to keep her balance and they kept her from doing so. She was starting to feel dizzy.

The ex-ranger watched his mate go spinning past. "The center. Punch it," he ordered. Jackie thought about the horrid noise the creature was making and how funny it must look with Fry's shoe sticking out of it. The shrill slammed into a wall pushing the shoe in even farther. It teetered and wobbled for a long moment. Jack stared at the scarlet glowing brain. She could reach that phosphorescent wrinkled glob that was just about chin level rather easily.

With a mental shrug she released her left hand because her grip with her right one was better anyhow and curled it into a fist before picturing Carl Johanstein's face where glowing orb was. She drew back and punched with all the force she could muster. The chains limited the force a bit, but the shrill noise abruptly ended as Jackie's fist was enveloped in what felt like warm jelly-like mush. It oozed down her arm, as the shrill seemed to wonder what was happening. Then, unexpectedly, the creature crumpled under her. "Yuck!" Jackie tumbled to the floor, covered in slime. The silence lingered for a long moment. Finally she said, "Yeah, punch it… Thanks, Riddick."

"No problem, babe." He dodged some more, "But you might want to get Carolyn to the floor."

Jackie stood and looked his direction, a guess on her part because it was so dark, "You got the shiv." Riddick grunted at her and steered his battle that direction. He deftly maneuvered so that Jack could catch Carolyn's waist again before he cut her rope, all the while keeping the shrill, the undamaged cool toned one, focused on him. One down and one to go, thanks to his mate's willingness to take his insights and get dirty.

It was really past time to end this though. He dodged the shrill away from Jack and Fry so that they had a path back to Imam and Lujjan. The creature tried to veer off toward the two women and Riddick stabbed the offending limb, "You wanna go?" he challenged, "Let's go." It slung a tentacle at him and he handily sliced it off. Riddick stood coiled for action… waiting. This creature is the more dangerous of the two, and it senses that contrast is its best defense. It becomes blinding bright before dropping without warning into darkness. There is silence, near total, in the pit. Riddick blinks as he strains in the darkness for some sign of the shrill. He didn't dare look over at the other four with him for fear that he'd miss the creature's subtle reappearance. There's a rustle over to his left. Without thinking Riddick moved to a sphere and pushed it into the noise. There's a sudden squeal and aqua flash as it collides with the shrill. He looked at his opponent in surprise, not having really believed that it was there, "Huh?"

But the shrill was not fully behind the sphere and had far more control over its individual limbs then the younger, now dead reddish one. One tentacle, still dark, moved up toward the fanged limb of its opponent. The only clue of its approach a faint slithering. Jackie heard slithering – It could only be one thing. "No!" She screamed as the shrill caught Riddick by the arms and immobilized him. His blade went flying. She heard it clatter to the floor. Seeing her mate struggle with all his might was more than she could stand. Before anyone could stop her she had ran through the goo, sliding and slipping, until she reached the area where the shiv had to be. Jack began to search frantically for it.

It was Fry, feeling as though both fighters had gone out of their way to save her, which grabbed one of the tentacles off the floor. Imam, having gotten both his and Lujjan's chains and collars off, retained Jackie's blade. Jackie was on her knees in the sludge looking for Riddick's shiv, heedless to any danger she might be in. Sucking up her fear, Carolyn whipped that tentacle around the remaining shrill's 'neck' and was flung off her feet as it struggled with the new attack. The movement was enough to help Riddick use the monster's stinger against itself as it tried to inject him. His arm, weighted down by heavy shrill tentacle was none the less free.

Jackie's fingers brushed the discarded shiv, "Riddick?" She grasped the handle firmly.

"Here!" He reached into the air as she tossed the blade. It sailed into his hand like they had practiced it a million times before. He freed his other hand with a smooth slice from the razor sharp shiv. The shrill reared its stinger back, screeching in pain as three of its tentacles were now separated from its body. Riddick whipped the tentacle around his arm into the center of the creature and allowed it to pull him in. And in seconds it was over with a bright flash of light.

The death of the second creature left them all in blackness. The rustle of clothing told Jackie that Abu was near. She felt him press her shiv back into her hand. He, Lujjan and Fry sank to their knees. Silence settled over them for a moment, as if the entire ship was holding its breath. Then the clapping started and the lights came back on. Not the red light of before, but full white light. Jack looked over at her mate. He, like the others, was on his knees, head down, shielding his eyes from the painfully bright glare. She growled low in her throat. Riddick shifted his head her direction, listening to her. A faint smirk danced on his lips as he pulled his goggles on before getting to his feet. "Bravo! The grace, the expression, the sheer violence of it! Exquisite."

"Give--" Riddick looked exasperated, then he looked at Jackie. Instant communication flowed between them. The bitch had left the remote out of reach. Jackie moved for the shiv still in the creature.

"What?" Imam asked.

"Give me the knife." Jackie was already on her feet, moving over with it. Imam took the blade and waited for the signal. Jackie palmed her own shiv. If they were gonna do this they had to do it together.

"Such a complete and thorough performance." The woman said breathlessly, "It leaves only one question."

"I got a feeling you're not gonna like it." Carolyn stated as she plucked her shoe out of the muck. Two of the individuals were watching the slim woman above them like a pair of predatory cats.

The woman closed her eyes; Imam passed the shiv to Riddick, Jackie mentally prepared herself to follow Riddick's every move no matter how much it was gonna hurt. "How will I ever have the pair of you mounted…" The woman opened her eyes, "to do it justice?" Moving together, Riddick and Jackie raised their blades and cut into their necks. Junner had put his remote down too. Neither was in hand. "What are you--" Chillingsworth realized too late what was going on. "No!" She turned for the remote. 'Hell, this hurts,' Jackie gritted her teeth, 'It's got to come out…' She followed Riddick's example in digging the explosive charge out of her own neck.

"Are you going to keep those?" Lujjan asked.

"Looks like the two of you will have to be an abstract piece."

"Down! Now!" Jackie threw and ducked again in time with Riddick's example. Fry and Imam grabbed Lujjan and hobbled with her for a few rushed feet before spinning themselves into a skid in order to put some distance before the duel explosion. The docking pilot quickly regained her feet and began to run for the still smoking hole in the wall of the pit. The explosion had thrown both Jackie and Riddick through the air. With Carolyn motioning for them to hurry, the young Furyan woman reached for her mate pulled him to his feet as Imam was helping Lujjan to hers. Riddick groaned as he responded to the desperate urgent tugging. "Come on. Move!" Jackie shouted. Their flight was accompanied by angered feminine screeches that drifted through the blackened, smoky air.


	17. To Run To Chase

To Run, To Chase…

Antonia Chillingsworth, Kovan elite, highly sought after for her cruel beauty and great wealth, watched something happen from the ledge above that had never happened to her before. Expensive implants sailed in twin arcs through the air as she attempted to hold onto the remote for them. Her fingers pressed a button and suddenly chaos erupted in her once tidy world. Down on the floor of her private arena two shrill corpses, a pile of goo that had once been a merc in her employ, and five very alive humans were recovering from an ear-splitting explosion. The explosion had been engineered by her own hand, the product of being outwitted by a convict. Not just any convict. Richard B. Riddick, now flattened on the floor by the force of the fireball, had out thought, out maneuvered, and out plotted her. Not something she was used to, by any means. The shock quickly gave way to emotions of the darkest and most murderous kind. Her fingers squeezed the remote she had so inelegantly fumbled for not moments before as if to crush it. The spectacular orange-red balls of fire should have killed.

Only the clever octopus-like devices had not been incased in flesh at the moment of detonation, and it was the hull of her ship that paid the price for her lapse in judgement. She had severely underestimated the girl. Not only had the tawny haired young woman quickly escaped from her collar, but also she'd thrown herself into the fight at the bald man's orders without a second thought. At first Antonia was thrilled, but when the unspoken set of commands turned to self-mutation and the girl had dared to follow them the thrill very quickly drained away. In the moments that it took for her implants to screen out the afterglow flash from the twin detonations, the five below her were regaining their feet.

She stood with emotions ranging from icy-cold cunning to white-hot murderous rage swirling thick around her as the fire gave way to thick black smoke. Her eyes registered a figure standing in the ruins of the fighting pit. It took Antonia a moment to realize that the navy blue clothing and blonde head belonged the docking pilot. The woman was hopping on one foot as she worked to put her shoe back on. That accomplished, she moved to the hole in the wall and began to wave to the others that were still either on the floor or helping them up. Antonia knew that the impossible was happening; they were getting away.

Anger took over, coming up from deep inside and threatening to boil over. How dare they run? The acid inky smoke was filling the room. She heard the atmospheric scrubbers cycle on. The air cleared in time for Chillingsworth to see the young Furyan woman pull Riddick to his feet. She clinched her teeth, turning to her second in command with a look that nearly shouted, 'What did you _not_ tell me,' for she recognized this behavior and she guessed that the woman was of age to bond. She had hoped that revealing a change of plans to place them together for eternity would calm them, that the charges implanted in them would still their thoughts of freedom. Instead the pair struggled like savages against being tamed; cutting into their own flesh like rabid animals might do against a trap. Their blood spilled onto the floor, wounds in their necks glaring at the one who would dare ensnare them as if to mock her, they ran.

Junner also watched the escape stunned at the boldness of it. Shock and a devious tickling of wonder, he noted idly. Surely he couldn't _admire _the ingenious impromptu planning of the desperate killer. No, surely not… Yet the feeling of hesitant awe settled into his gut and wouldn't dislodge itself no matter how angered he tried to become. Here was a challenge, the tall black haired man noted. Finally, someone to test himself against for a stake that really mattered. For life -- or death. An odd calm filtered over Junner at that thought. He was rather detached from the situation, yet clearly his mistress felt insulted by the actions of the rather remarkable survivors.

After a moment he gathered his wits and looked over at the slightly shaking form of the woman he was devoted to. He could tell that Chillingsworth realized her 'art' was escaping. There was no point in mentioning it. Reflection of the situation revealed, to him at least, that this was the likely outcome of pushing someone who clearly was a masterful killer. A cunning killer. Riddick was certainly both masterful and cunning. The desire to face off with the man fleeing below into the depths of the Kubla Kahn swelled in Junner's breast. It would be such a triumph to face one such as that. To meet that challenge, to win it even, yes, even at the risk of his own life.

At long last he approached his mistress. Last two survivors, both dark skinned, disappeared through the smoldering gash in the bulkhead. He had dwelled in his dreams of grandeur for too long and now it was all too apparent that Antonia was not dealing with this situation well at all. He slammed is fear back down as far as he could. This mood of hers upped the danger. Junner prepared himself to take what punishment she might see fit to toss at him although this mess wouldn't have happened if she'd listened to him in the first place. With his mistress' temper approaching white hot, he knew that reminding her of that fact would be a deadly mistake. Through clinched teeth she stated flatly, "We'll need to rouse a substantial pursuit force."

Oh, this was very, very bad. Just by the tone of her voice he could tell that the owner of the ship would spare no cost to recover her prizes. His heart thudded in his chest before he dared to quietly speak, "Who?"

His humble question was greeted with a scream. A sound of madness that gave way to the words, "All of them!" Chillingsworth spun to look at him, her eyes glittering like bits of star fire as she came swiftly into his space, "Even the 'Golls!" His mind suddenly went blank all words of protest fleeing as swiftly as they could form. He noticed that her hands balled into fists so tight that her metallic nails groaned from the pressure. "Any man or thing that can hold a weapon!" Spittle flew as Antonia advanced one step, then two. She leaned forward forcing him back, "Every. Last. One!" He was faintly glad for the glasses he wore and his ability to keep a straight face. He was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of letting his kin loose on the ship, even if it was to catch a killer that would likely destroy it if not stopped. But his mistress was not done; she kept advancing on him. Junner felt her heel grind into his foot, shooting pain not only in his foot but up his leg as she crushed down on his boot with her dagger-like shoe. "Now!" He was all too glad to get away from Chillingsworth to carry out her orders.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Toombs looked away from the distorted image of a pale, gaunt man with wild curly hair and distinctive beard. He notice, not for the first time, that his once warm brown hair was turning a dirty gray, in spite of all the time he spent on ice these days. He patted down his pockets looking once again for the stub of the cigar that he knew should be there only to remember that his 'commander' had snatched it away from him. He glanced back into the narrowed eyes centered in his reflection. His skin was pasty after so much time in space. He needed four things: sunlight, a bottle of whisky, a fine cigar, and information about what the hell was going on. Of the four there was only one that he knew he could get quickly. He smoothed down his vest, checking his gear before scrunching up his face and giving his chin a brisk rubbing. There was a mass movement down the hallway outside the door of the room where he waited. He listened until the footsteps died down. It hadn't taken him long to slip his ball and chain he reflected. She was by all accounts a fine looking woman, one he'd bed in an instant if he thought she'd go for that. Except he knew the butch wouldn't. Maybe that wasn't fair. After all he had no proof. Hell, she acted like a dike… He figured she likely was one.

Harley was her name. And she was big on keeping everyone in line. For some reason she targeted him for every little thing. Hell, a wrinkle for sitting down got him a scolding. And there was the insane rank thing going on, 'Commander Harley' she'd reminded him about a hundred times since he'd woken up. He rolled his eyes at the thought. She was no commander. She was nothing. She knew nothing about catching the big payouts because she had spent all her time here, on the Kubla Kahn, kissing ass. Unfortunately, ass kissing never carried over especially well when facing a merc-killer. And he'd bet that that was the thing, right there. Someone had been brought on board that was too hot for the normal crew to handle.

He ground his teeth together. The platinum haired bitch acted like de-icing him was a marriage contract, all right. Nothin' worse that a woman with a gun who thought she was the boss, especially when there was another woman above her. While this was a nice ship, clean and tidy, he wanted off. Toombs stepped out of the room he'd holed up in and scanned down the corridor. The halls of the _Kubla Kahn_ were deserted leaving his passage toward the control room wide open, just the way he liked it. He'd never seen the ship quite this empty before. He knew it had to be irregular. Something huge was up, of that he had no doubt. But what? Or more to the point, who?

He reached the brightly-lit chamber and opened the door. After glancing around it was clear that not even a token crewmember was left on watch. He smirked as he strolled over to a station and sat down. He slid his hands into the keypads and reopened the last database search. "All right. Just what's the big deal?" He asked the empty room as the computer retrieved the data he was asking for. The prison record for one Richard B. Riddick and all his current bounties popped to the screen. The bounty line filled to the 1.126.000 UD's mark. "Oh! Jumping Jesus!" Toombs thought he was going to have a heart attack from sheer joy, "Oh, come to Papa, you beautiful bald bastard."

Harley rolled her eyes as the rough male voice echoed down the empty hallway. Toombs had left the door open, and it was easy to track him when he was loudly swearing. She stepped into the room to see him hooked into the main computer without authorization. She didn't give a fuck as to why he was there, but she had to make him understand that she was in charge, "Toombs, what in the hell are you doing?"

He didn't even look away from the screen. Resentment at her poking her nose in threatened to filter out of the careful mask he was wearing. He had to keep his head down so she wouldn't catch on, "Just gathering intel."

Harley watched him make a careless shrug. Her arms tensed up and she gritted her teeth. 'Arrogant son-of-a-bitch' she mentally swore. Fixing him with a look that was like ice, she said off handedly, "Yeah, well, stow it." He stood up and looked at her. "We got a couple of runners to bring in. Shoot on sight."

"Yes, _sir_." Toombs saluted his 'commander's' back but brushed off her growl. This was, by all accounts, going to make his year. If he could catch the bastard running through the _Kubla Kahn_ he'd have his ticket off this boat.

oOoOoOoOoOo

Luckily, the gravity remained off in the parts of the ship that Riddick lead them into. Not that moving in zero-grav was easy or anything, but the princess would not have managed otherwise. The broken leg slowed them all down, and Riddick found himself looking for paths that would be easier rather than straighter to his goal. This meant looking for open areas; straight lines that had push off points at easy to manage distances. Why the hell did he care? Was it the fact that this woman made the preacher happy? Questions rolled through his brain that he couldn't answer, foreign as they were.

If they had left the princess behind they would be that much closer to freedom. He stopped his mind from those thoughts. No, he'd killed Johns for exactly the same sort of thing. It didn't matter if he liked her or not, if he understood her or not, she was for all practical purposes one of them now because the insane woman who owned this ship made it so. That being the case, he'd do his best to make sure she had a chance of making off this ship. He gritted his teeth and wondered when he'd become Carolyn. Or rather, when Richard had become fully a part of him again.

Lujjan had little experience with broken bones, and while she felt a tremendous amount of pain, her leg was surprisingly numb now she had no weight on it. For that she was grateful. Her mind was oddly blank. There were, of course, those nagging little questions that kept pestering the edge of her mind, like who were these people? Why did Chillingsworth speak of having them 'mounted'? Where did the pair leading them learn to fight? But all in all she could ignore those little annoyances and focus on escaping.

Ahead of her was a large tunnel-like passage. The 'ex-military' man reached the entrance to it, altered his path with an effortless light push, and zoomed into the depths of the darkness. The young woman, still with her hands shackled, followed his example making it look natural. Abu paused to catch her as she reached the tunnel herself and gave her a directed push. The docking pilot caught her around her waist and guided her through the velvety blackness doing an amazing job of protecting Lujjan's injury. It didn't take the princess long to realize that this was not an easy way to travel at all. These people had great control fueled by an urgent desire to escape from Antonia Chillingsworth alive.

There was a turn in the tunnel. She spotted 'Mr. Smyth's' boots just as the golden-eyed youth touched off and disappeared around the bend. Imam once again helped guide her so she did not hurt herself. Carolyn also continued to hang back with her, not having much energy anyhow and trying to keep herself going as long as possible. Lujjan knew that Abu would let her pass then push off and easily end up in front of her before she required his aid again. The tunnel gave way to a 3-d maze of pipes and they began to work their way through it as fast as possible.

Not overly far behind them, four mercs moved into the pit and surveyed the mess. Their boots crunched as they walked something that indicated light casings shattered under foot. Toombs had never seen anything quite like this before. And if this was beyond his experience, sure as shit none of the others with him had a hint about it either. To his side his 'commander' was scanning above them instead of looking at the floor. The other two grunts seemed oblivious to the implications of what they were walking through. Toombs narrowed his eyes at the clues littered about.

There was tan sludge, pieces of something that was decomposing rapidly, metal shards, and plexi fragments all over the floor. He guessed that the metal and plexi came from the wall that had been torn apart and was still issuing a rank arid smoke. The goo looked like it had been slid in, its edges pushed out by smallish feet or perhaps knees. The other pieces had been something alive, not overly long ago. They looked rather spongy now and emitted a strong, inhuman, pungency that was only slightly cut by the tang of the arid smoke. The smell tended to hug the floor getting stronger as he ventured to crouch down very briefly. He then noticed the three large spheres. Hanging from the distant ceiling were three ropes cleanly edged with a single cut, and a metal cable with a collar pried open. The cable still had a loop in it that looked oddly like someone had rigged a footrest out of it. It was then that he saw the bits of chain and the two sets of collars and shackles on the floor.

Toombs and Harley stewed in mutual hostility even as the smell threatened to make them both gag. Of the other two, one was a broad shouldered blonde cyborg and the other was too handsome for his own good. Neither was bright enough to be scared of what they were about to do. It was spotting a final set of cuffs and collar just past the smoking ruins of the wall that made Toombs forget the gook he'd been avoiding with care. He stepped in something sticky and squishy. Raising his foot off the floor with disgust he asked, "What in the hell happened here?"

Harley had been, up to that point, wondering that herself. She noticed that the second in command was not there, but that the boss was. They needed results, and fast. "Shut up and take point," she waved Toombs to the front. It was her tone of voice that alerted Toombs to who was above them, watching their progress through the pit and into the ship beyond. He gave the white haired woman a salute before stepping through the breach in the wall that was obviously brand new. He quickly pushed it out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. Harley was slightly bothered by Chillingsworth's presence on the balcony. She wondered if this was a test or something. She suppressed a growl, "Burn 'em."

But Antonia was far away from the situation unfolding below her, settling deep into her personal insanity. A wild, unhinged look filled her eyes. All she could think of was that they _dared_ defy her. They never would have run if not for _HIM_, that bloody, vicious, savage! She would show them what they were dealing with. No one defied a Chillingsworth. She spun away, set on her own person plan of revenge.

Toombs headed into the darkness, pausing to turn his lights on, "Grab your panties, boys." He could tell without even asking that half of the crew he was with had all the experience of freshly picked farm boys venturing into the big city for the first time. Faint echoes of feet colliding with metal steered him the correct direction. He could hear the runners hit walls as they floated their way through the ship. He listened for a second and then the gravity came on. There was a distant clatter and then a steadier pace of echoes as the group ahead switched to running. Toombs broke into a trot not caring if the other three kept up or not.

Up ahead, Riddick was still in the lead. As they made their way through an area thick with pipes the gravity came on. Imam and Fry both stopped to carry Lujjan through. Jack paused to wait for them, "Riddick, wait!" He looked back, scanned the area ahead of them and motioned for her to hurry. The three behind her cleared the pipes and Jackie moved off to indicate her mate's chosen path. A distant, grotesque roar shuddered through the ship. "What the hell was that?"

Down the darkened wide passage he'd chosen Riddick came to a full stop. This allowed everyone to catch up. Once he had them all around him he ordered, "Don't move." He had a really bad feeling about that noise. He strained his senses. There was a faint distant clanging that told him four mercs were behind them. One was very light, like that of a woman. Another was rather loud and uneven, hinting at a mechanical leg. The other two were men. But the roar was not repeated right away. It had to be something behind the merc squad, not with it. He held up four fingers. Imam widened his eyes understanding the message. Riddick motioned for everyone to move as quickly and as quietly as they could manage.

The second wave of trackers entered the pit. These individuals were all half mechanical and half flesh. They wore matching outfits that marked them as Kovan handlers. What they handled was the results of science gone mad. Currently, six of them struggled to control a monster of huge proportions that walked on mechanical legs. Whatever the base creature was had been mutated out of recognition. These were the 'golls of the sort that Riddick had encountered before. A seventh handler swabbed up some blood and offered it to the monster. It ate the swab, its mouth erupting into a tentacled and toothed horror large enough to bite a large man in half. The swab holder ordered, "Turn it loose!" The creature roared in eager anticipation. The other six 'golls were given little choice and even less time to react before the half mechanical mutant surged forward toward the jagged hole. Five managed to get the ropes off their wrists. The unlucky sixth individual was dragged behind the monster as it lumbered into the darkness with one thought on its tiny brain – lunch.

It was the second roar that finally spurred Riddick to change his course. Going flat was deadly; they needed to get off this level and up higher. Hopefully the 'goll mutant couldn't climb. He turned to the first structure that looked easy and pointed up. The ex-ranger refused to say why at the moment, telling Jackie, "No time to explain. Just do as I say." He set her up the route in front of him, and turned to give Lujjan a hand. Imam was just behind her. Fry was at the rear of the group and was doing better than he had thought she would. Jackie reached the next level and turned her attention toward her cuffs. Riddick settled Lujjan down next to his mate and turned back to aid Imam. Abu waved off the offered hand and indicated Carolyn. The sounds of Jack's chains popping loose clicked into the darkness. "Enough of a break! Climb!" The urgency in his deep voice made Jackie jump up and rush to obey.

She helped Lujjan back to her feet and made sure the other woman was pulling herself up the structure behind them. The holy man had scaled it in front of the princess and was offering her a hand when she needed it. Fry and Riddick both reached the lower ledge as enough of the wall cleared for Jack to begin her climb. Riddick didn't wait. He stepped to the side and scaled up with enough speed to meet Abu at the top. Jack hauled herself over the edge just as Riddick ordered Imam, "Keep movin' Preacher." Abu looped an arm around Lujjan and set off down the flat path beyond. Jackie and Riddick both heard the footfalls from the group of mercs following them. "Go with Imam, Jack," he found her arm extending with his toward Fry.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Not a good time to get stubborn, you know?" he scolded her as they connected with Carolyn's arms haul her up. But Jack noticed that he did not send her away, instead choosing to focus on the docking pilot, "Come on!" Riddick growled as he and Jack pulled her up. The blonde was nearly over the edge of the rail when the lights blinded them. Jackie stared into the beams for a second, her grip going slack.

One of their pursuers looked up before raising his gun and caught sight of an angelic, youthful face surrounded by a sweep of short tawny hair with eyes the color of back lit amber or clear honey. It caused him to pause for an instant, "Holy Mother of Jesus…." Then one of the others, the merc Toombs hand mentally begun to call 'cutie' began to fire at the three runners.

Jackie ducked back as the bullets began hitting metal around them, letting go of Fry in her haste. Riddick caught the blonde by her waistband and flipped her up over his head before turning over and inching away from the edge. He caught Carolyn before she hit the floor and barely registered the sing in his shoulder where a bullet had gotten just a tad too close. "You're hurt--" Jack began.

Fry found herself in the large man's lap, her heart thudding wildly, "He's hurt? He almost tore me in half!"

"Just a graze." They had no time. Riddick set the pilot on her feet, grabbed Jack by the arm and forged ahead, looking for the fastest, most direct route. Sometimes though the two were not fully compatible. They caught up with Imam helping Lujjan over the conduits that blocked their path. They were almost clear again when another roar shook the ship, followed by vibrations through the metal.

"What the fuck _is_ that?" Jackie turned the direction of the noise.

Behind them the mercs were scaling the same route their quarry followed. The creature, even further back, was hot on the pursuit also. Its roar, the thunder of its huge metal legs, and the screaming, entangled 'goll it was dragging all created a chilling announcement of its pending arrival. Toombs, of all the mercs, understood what the noise was. "That bitch. Move!" He kicked his climb into high gear at the expense of the merc in front of him, climbing over the top of the cyborg. Harley, for once, didn't argue. By Toombs reaction she guessed that their boss had set the 'goll monster loose. If they got in the way they would be just as dead as the runners it was after.

Riddick stopped to judge where the monster was, "Quiet." The order caused them all to pause for just a moment not even daring to breathe. " 'Golls. Come on." Riddick lead them into the clear, "We gotta keep moving." He pushed Fry ahead of him and motioned for Jack to lift Lujjan clear of the last pipe. Another roar spurred them into a run. Now that the ground was flat and the adrenaline was pumping even the injured could hobble along at a frantic pace without help. The covered the length of the smooth flatness until the walls begun to taper toward them. Jackie hung back with Lujjan the entire way just incase she fell. Imam's robes flapped as he sprinted between ex-ranger's position and Lujjan's. Riddick nearly picked Fry up and carried her. The path was rapidly coming to an end. They needed to climb again, only the vibrations were getting louder, stronger. To risk the service ladder to the flight deck would expose them all. That would be a messy death. Riddick swept the area with his eyes and came to a halt. He let go of Carolyn who just barely managed to not sink to the ground.

Imam pulled up short; "We cannot stop." He was breathing heavy and could only imagine how the docking felt at the moment as she fought to stay upright about half a step behind Riddick. Jackie and Lujjan came to a stop and the princess caught the young woman by the arm to keep her balance.

"We ain't out running this thing, not the five of us." Riddick insisted, looking at the regal woman pointedly. She was not his only concern though; he'd been nearly carrying Carolyn who was at the point of collapse.

"I can keep up." Lujjan protested.

"Not with that leg." Riddick looked at Imam before motioning to Fry. The docking pilot mustered her strength and stepped back up to Abu's side. She listened intently, "Best bet, get to the flight deck." Riddick looked up. They were just below a docking bay. He scanned with his eyes until he spotted a good hiding spot.

Imam looked up thoughtfully, "It's just aft, upper level." He spotted the well-lit service ladder.

"Yeah." He pointed to the sheltered area between some massive pipes that was shrouded in deep shadows, "Stow in there." He was watching Abu and Carolyn closely, hoping beyond hope that they would listen to him and do as he said. He would just have to gamble that they would. "Let whatever is following pass. When it does make for the flight deck." Riddick pointed up. "Don't look back, no matter what you hear." Imam nodded his face betraying concern for his friend and the knowledge that he was going to follow some very dangerous and foolhardy plan.

Fry said, "We'll wait for you."

Riddick shook his head. If they waited they might never make it off this hellish boat. What good would that do him? "Just get off this ship, Carolyn. As fast as you can." Riddick looked at the docking pilot willing her to listen to him.

Lujjan finally piped in, "What are you going to do?" She sounded very concerned.

"Whatever I have to do for you three to get out of this alive. Don't argue." He pointed to the hiding spot and glared until Fry begin to pull Lujjan off that way. Imam took both women's hands and gave them a squeeze. "Jackie, it's after us. Come on." Jackie looked back at them one last time and followed Riddick in a sprint.

The three left behind to hide watched the couple as both the bald man and his wiry companion retreated into the darkness. Each of them was filled with thoughts of the danger that the pair faced and would continue to face in the attempt to keep them alive. They made their way over to the narrow alcove. Imam noticed something that nearly made him cry, Riddick was making a blood trail as he and Jackie went to draw the danger away from them.

The patter of running feet was getting louder. 'That would be the mercs,' the holy man thought. Abu pulled the women with him back into the depths of the darkness. He felt his heart pounding. Prayer at a time like this suddenly felt silly. All this time he'd been praying that they get out of this alive, and all this time, Riddick had been the one to save them. Now the quicksilver-eyed man was leaking his life force all over the floor in a desperate bid to draw away whatever horror it was that followed them. A horror that had to be far, far worse than four mercs that dodged past their hiding spot.

Toombs came to a screeching halt. There was something dark and wet making a trail off into the confines of the ship. It glimmered into the distance. He crouched and eyed one drop closely. Blood. An inkling of what was going on tickled his brain. Standing back up he looked up. Nothing. The shudder through the metal around him drew his attention back down the length of the ship. The mutant was getting closer in spite the climb. His companions were already nearly out of sight. He trotted off to catch up.

None of the adults in hiding had forgotten the reason they were cowering in the darkness. The quivering metal around them beat a steady reminder. Imam dared a peak around the edge of their hiding spot. He pulled back, his face draining of color as the heavy metallic footsteps approached. This creature was worse than the shrill, worse than an army of them could ever be. It was massive. Lujjan caught his hand wondering what he had seen. The ship kept vibrating under the monster's weight. Her eyes spotted the glint off its metallic leg as it came level with the crevice they hid in. 'Oh my god, there is no way that the other two can survive that!' she thought in panic.

The mutant caught scent of the blood trail and roared as it came into Carolyn's line of sight. This certainly looked bad for Riddick and Jackie, but the docking pilot had faith in the pair. 'They'll make it. Now we just have to get to the flight deck and wait for them to show.' The three of them stayed hidden until there was no doubt that the creature had taken the bait, following whatever trail Riddick had set for it. Imam did a visual check just to be sure. He motioned to the women as he stood and emerged from their hiding spot. He turned and headed toward the service ladder. Lujjan and Carolyn followed him. Fry felt Lujjan pause about halfway to it and had turned back the direction Riddick and Jackie went. Imam was already scaling the ladder. He stopped and looked back down at the pair. Carolyn moved back to the princess, understanding perhaps too well how the other woman felt.

Lujjan was torn. She had been taught that one good deed deserved another. Since first meeting the bald man and the slim young woman, all either of them had done was try to keep her safe although they did not know her. It was not the sort of loyalty she'd known from her father's paid guard, but something that just seemed inherently _noble_ about the pair. The thought of leaving this ship without Riddick or Jackie just was wrong in so many ways; "We've got to help them. We can't help either of them if we leave," she whispered.

Although Carolyn Fry felt the same way, she knew that they had to keep moving. She put a hand on the other woman's shoulder. "Sometimes," her voice caught and she swallowed in order to finish her words around the lump in her throat, "– that's exactly what has to be done." Lujjan squeezed her eyes closed. "I know it's counter to everything your gut says, Lujjan, but we have to trust Riddick and do what he's told us to do." The blonde felt the dark-skinned woman give in. They began toward the ladder. She gave the dark skinned woman a boost toward the first rung and Abu's hand reached down to help Lujjan climb.


	18. Are You Scared of the Dark?

**AN:** A longer than normal chapter for you all. This concludes Dark Fury. I've got some twists and turns in store for you all before we head back into Canon territorty. Thanks for the reviews.

Are You Scared of the Dark?

The monstrous mutant was behind them. That was the single concern on the ex-ranger's mind at this precise moment. If he couldn't kill it somehow it would definitely take his and Jack's lives. The plan that formed in his mind was crude, dangerous, and self-sacrificing. Draw it away from his friends, Abu and Carolyn, so that they could get the injured woman, Lujjan, to safety. He wasn't sure how far they'd need to go to actually do that, but he was not going to have the blood of another innocent on his hands because he hadn't given enough effort to saving her. It was odd, in a disjointed way, that the killer in him could fully agree with the strengthening human side about the value of something so intangible as innocence. Not his own, mind you. Not even Jack's for that matter. But the innocence of an adult that existed as a – real – person, precious all the more for it's rarity in this cold, impersonal universe spinning around him on what seemed to be the pinpoint of his actions and decisions.

It would have shocked him had he stopped and really thought about it. Lujjan was one of the few that his gut reacted to with a burning desire to set free and out of danger. She was like a butterfly held inside a glass jar. Her worldview was as alien to him as Chillingsworth's was, true enough, but she looked at him with trust in the same manner that usually only children managed. That was the crux of the matter, right there. Without knowing him, seeing he could kill, his gruff and deadly manner fully showing, she still _trusted_. It made him want to growl. Instead, Riddick made a deep gash in his arm and applied pressure to regulate the flow. He heard his mate as she looked back one last time at the sheltered spot where the others hid. The large man set his jaw and began to move off into the darkness ahead of him. Slowly, the young woman turned and nearly silent steps indicated that she was following.

There was something final in leaving the three behind that Jackie could not shake. An ache settled into her chest that was cold and heavy. She knew that this was the only chance the others had. Riddick would not have taken the risk of leaving them behind if he'd seen any other way to get them out of this. Once again, her trust allowed her to place faith in him, not needing to ask before hand what exactly they were going to do. She just wished that the leaden feeling would go away. Jackie followed her mate's lead careful not to slip in the blood trail he was making. She was unsure of how many steps they took, how many frantic heartbeats passed, as they put distance between themselves and those they protected. Actually all she had attention for was the consistent line of copperish wetness forming as they moved. A trail of blood, Riddick's blood, for some end that she was sure would not be pleasant.

They reached a blind, no not _a_ blind, _the_ blind. Full stop. There was no more room to run. They reached the farthest point that they could on this level that was not in cold space beyond the metal walls. They would make a stand here and live or they would die. Somehow, it was so simple. The ship's hull curved about fifteen steps ahead of her, lined with a large pipe near the floor and several smaller ones just above her head. The light here came off a warning sign that stated "no open flames" with a stark yellow cast. She noted that the path was long enough to spare their friends from having to witness anything, but that they would hear the end of the battle. No way really that they couldn't. At her side, the large man was considering his options, scanning everything. His hand on his arm squeezing down on his self inflicted wound to staunch the bleeding for the moment. She caught her breath, noticing the unmistakable odor of methane faintly in the air.

The sounds of the mercs were getting louder, disjointed boots ringing against the metal floor. Riddick was really less then concerned about the four fake-badges behind them. He could feel the wincing of the woman to his side with each echo, though. There, overhead, was a duct of some sort, round and smooth. It looked to be roomy enough to hide in but narrow enough to climb. He took a step forward; silent in spite the thick prison boots he wore. The duct was at a slight angle. It was a quick calculation later that Riddick pulled off his shirt. Blood welled up in a heady bead; slowly pushing past the surface tension that held it in place before running thickly down his arm in the short span the pressure was off the wound. For a second he curled the black cloth around his arm and froze with the sheer risk he was taking. _Thud, thud, thud_… It was difficult to tell which was the boots on the hull and which was his heart. They really didn't have time for this. He wiped the tank down his arm, soaking it with his blood before letting it fall to the floor. "Jackie--"

She moved up to his side. This, then, was the moment of truth. How much would she give to him? The shiv in his had flashed with a yellowed glint. He took her arm. The white undershirt sleeve was pushed up out of the way, letting the cool air ghost over her skin. She felt the blade press her flesh, then there was searing pain as her skin gave way under the razor sharpness of it. She gritted her teeth, but did not flinch. The grip on her arm was bruising in its intensity. She watched the dark liquid swelling up along the cut, and Riddick seemed to understand the detached air that stole over her. For a suspended moment, he let her stare, still and quiet, at the life giving syrupy redness swelling on her arm. The cut was straight, deep, and true. Then their hearts began beating again and the moment was past. He tipped her arm toward the floor and the blood ran down onto the already damp black tank. 'Pity,' she thought, 'I rather liked the feel of that fabric.' She noticed that his blood was still dripping too, and he'd already given much more of it than she had. The stillness that shrouded them served only to remind that there was a steep shortage of time in which to complete the snare being set, as both the clanging of the mercs' boots and the echoing roar of the mutant bounced around the curved space they found themselves in.

Seconds later she started out of the meditative state she'd slipped into when Riddick's voice rumbled, "Shred you sleeve and tie this up. Mine too." He'd never let go of her arm, although she hadn't really noticed his grip once the blood began to flow. Something about his manner kept her from wondering too much about how, one-handed, she was going to cut and tear her sleeve into strips to carry out the order. She set the her shiv against the fabric of her right sleeve, bent down to catch the cotton with her teeth, and tore almost like she'd done this as an everyday thing. Amazing what one could do when there was no time to doubt one's skill. The cleaner of her two sleeves now in tatters, she felt him take the over binding the wound off. She grunted as he cinched her arm tight. He nodded as she returned the favor. "On my back," that deep voice rumbled.

How could she resist? Jackie felt slightly odd as she put her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist. But she was surrounded by his scent, peace and assurance filled her being even as he reached up and pulled them both into the duct. She rubbed her cheek over the back of his head as the world shrunk down to his shifting muscles, warm skin, and the curved metal of the tube he was climbing. Even with the danger and worry, Riddick felt himself purr slightly from the nuzzle. Somehow she knew what he needed to still his fears. He felt her heart beating strong but slow against his back, her breath puffed warmly on his scalp, the pressure of her body comfortable against him. He could almost forget the mercs and the mutant that threatened them. Almost, but not quite. His eyes located a branch that was fairly level. He turned around and backed Jack into it. "Wait here," he whispered in her ear.

He then slipped into his own meditative state. He needed to separate out the noises and make sense of them to know what was approaching. Clunk, thud – Clunk, thud – 'Cyborg' his mind supplied. Thud, thud, thud, thud – faster, lighter, and smoother – 'female' came the assessment. Slap-thud, slap-thud, slap-thud, slap-thud – slightly graceful, heavy – 'green recruit, first mission, runs like his boots are too big' wry twist to his lips at the thought. Thump, thump, thump, thump – 'natural rubber soled boots, quiet runner, trained, knows his shit…' There was danger. Perhaps the only one of the mercs chasing them with any brains. He nearly jerked out of the meditation. 'Mutant, what can I discern about the fucking mutant?' he scolded internally, 'What, Old Man, you going soft?' He refocused his attention.

Whine-shriek-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH, Whine-shriek-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH… 'Big – and um…' his mind responded. That did not help. He took a deep slow breath. Whine-shriek-wheeze-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH, Whine-shriek-wheeze-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH… 'Hydraulics need tuning… yep, still big.' Hell, he'd have to see the thing to figure out its weak spot. Whine-Screeezzzzhhhhh-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH, Whine-Screeezzzzhhhhh-_groan_-CHASH, Whine-_shriek_-groan-CHASH… 'Metal legs, large pad for balance. Hydraulics must be hooked directly into the movement centers. Risky 'goll practice. Now I wonder if they left it unshielded?' Of course, it the monster was as large as it sounded very few would get past its business end to check that now would they? He concluded that it was as good a shot as any other and seeing as he was above it already...

OoOoOoOoOoO

Toombs was getting slightly annoyed. The blood trail seemed to mock him. His shit-for-brains co-workers hadn't even noticed it. And there was no sign of the runners. How the hell did they loose three, eh --five-- fucking people? Well, he thought he'd heard five but he knew there were three for sure. He'd seen two women and Riddick with his own eyes. Still, the original assessment was for five and he'd never been wrong before. He shut off the train wreck of thoughts and returned to the issue at hand. No sign of the runners. Mentioning it to 'Commander Harley' wouldn't solve shit. And speaking of shit… weren't they near the waste recycling area? Yep, there was the lovely smell of methane. This was a dead end. So, either one of two things had happened. _They_ ran past the runners who were hiding behind them or this was a trap. And no one with a bounty as high as Riddick's could be stupid. He slowed his steps, watching the three ahead of him stab into the twilight with their lights. He shut his off. His eyes needed to adjust to the native illumination, because if Riddick was at the end of the trail, being blind because his light got knocked out was not an option.

'Commander' Harley noticed the abrupt silence of Toombs' rubber-soled boots behind her. She saw his light cut off as he came up rejoined them. That was curious, she noted. He kept pace easily enough, but she could discern little sound from him. Maybe he knew something of value after all? She cut her light and glanced over at the scruffy, skinny man. His face was a study in intense concentration. His body moved fluidly and noiselessly forward. She suddenly regretted how she'd treated him. She watched his head bob down and found herself looking at the floor. A dark line glistened in the dim yellow glow from the warning sign ahead. What the fuck? Was that blood? That had to be the source of his sudden caution. Had they wounded one of the runners? Harley's pale hair caught the reflected light and gleamed in the darkness as she ordered, "Sweep it." Her two fellows slowly spread out, providing more lighted cover. Toombs glanced over at her with an expression that clearly showed his regard for the two with their lights on. She raised a brow at him, coming to a stop as he did. "What is it, Toombs?" she whispered.

"Fuckin' greens are gonna get us killed, Commander. You got no idea what you're dealing with. You think _we_ wounded one of them?" He leaned in close and spoke in her ear, "No, that there is a self-inflicted bleeder. Any idea as to why?" Harley pulled back from his warm, coarse breath grating over her earlobe. She met his eyes and shook her head. He made a scoffing sound. Somehow she had the feeling that she'd just failed a really large exam. The kind of test that altered lives. She stood blinking at him as he resumed his intense scrutiny of the twilight in front of them.

"Some kinda clue -" she started to say.

Only to be cut off with, "I got something," from the dark-haired green.

She pushed Toombs and his puzzles out of her mind. "Check it out," her husky voice ordered. Toombs snorted.

The black-haired merc moved to follow orders. He could see something dark on the floor. He crouched down. Toombs watched him. "What the --" He reached out toward the splotch in the dark and connected with cloth. Wet cloth. Copper assaulted his nose. Bloody cloth?

Toombs sprinted forward. They were right in the middle of a carefully laid trap. And the tank now slowly lifting off the floor under the fingers of 'cutie' was the piece of the mystery he'd been missing. It wasn't a trap for them. It was a trap for the 'goll mutant. "Don't touch that!" As he screamed his warning the other fellow dropped the blood filled cloth in alarm. Another roar ripped through the metal passage as if in challenge. He turned back, glanced toward the approaching monster then over at the cyborg.

Suddenly, Harley 'got' it. The blood trail, the 'bleeder' reference, the clothing soaked in what had to be even more blood. The 'golls used blood for tracking… They were between the mutant and it's prey. "Oh, shit!" she screamed in alarm. Dead-end, indeed. It truly was, wasn't it? She looked at Toombs who was casting about for a spot that might give them a fighting chance. Who was she kidding? The only way for the three that had not touched the blood to make it out of this was to throw the stupid one in front of the monster and run like hell. And even then it was no guarantee. Shit. She was not going to let it eat one of _her _men. She readied her gun and kissed her ass goodbye. Yep, she failed that exam all right.

Toombs backed up. He knew this was suicide. He'd seen the beast, long ago, and knew that their bullets would just tickle it. The other two readied their guns. Toombs backed up until he was about 3 steps from the wall. The other three had their attention riveted on the source of their mutual panic. The thing roared at them. It was huge. Waves of flesh juggled over the metal plates and fittings that served to connect the parts of it together. The mouth looked normal enough at the moment, but he doubted that it was really all that nice of a creature. He noted at the other 3 mercs begun firing at will. Small spots of off colored liquid appeared on the areas that had no plating. Maybe the bullets had an impact after all? They seemed to actually piss it off. Suddenly the monster's mouth exploded forward in a mass of tentacles, grabbing 'Cutie' and swallowing him down in one piece. That was something he'd not known about… 'Hell to _this_. I'm outta here,' Toombs thought as he scanned for an escape route. The sewage pipe. The only way. 'I'll take it,' he mentally said, 'Well, nice knowing you all.' He blasted open hole in the lower large pipe and dove in.

Harley didn't even feel a thing as the mutant ate her. Well, she felt the panic from being picked up off the floor, but her back snapped before she entered the creature's gullet. The mutant then moved for the pipe, knocking the cyborg down and stepping on him. The weight alone was enough to put the blonde man's lights out forever.

OoOoOoOoOoO

Running feet pounded the metal below them. Jackie felt woozy and light-headed now that Riddick was below her suspended under his own tense power. A roar shuddered through the ship in the distance. Jackie gripped the opening tighter, 'Keep it together, Jack. Please, keep it together…' as vibrations of something heavy stomping along the blood trail made the metal under Jackie's fingers shiver like Jell-O. The vibrations were becoming constant and the next roar was very, very close. She didn't dare look down. Then the flashes of light burst bright enough for her to see even with her eyes closed. Gunfire. The noise confirmed it. There was slurping, crunching of bone, nasty noises that had to be the thing below them finishing off the mercs. Sounds of death reached her ears as a horrific combination of twisted flesh and mechanical know-how consumed the bodies. There was another shudder as the mutant stepped forward. A pause… Then she heard the monster chomp down on steel. The screech of the metal in the monster's teeth ripped through her soul.

Riddick watched the entire battle as best as he could see it. The tracer shots scored their paths into his overly sensitive retinas, but he refused to look away. The mutant made quick work of the mercs. So quick that he wasn't sure if two or three of them had been consumed. How many was a slightly mute point, though, as the monster moved forward and took a bite of the metallic pipe against the wall. 'Must've needed something to wash them down with,' he thought with a smirk. It was at that point that the creature was in the perfect spot for the attack. His mind went clear as crystal. His body was ready and coiled for action. Just as he hoped, the top area of the skull was flickering with lights, marking a weak spot that he could exploit. There was a lack of defensive plates on the top of the mutant, likely because it already pushed the limits of its hydraulic systems. Any additional weight and it would simply stop moving. Riddick launched himself at the thing with his shiv acting like a deadly claw, slicing into the creature's sensitive and weak areas with single-minded vengeance. He didn't care if he killed it or if he merely paralyzed it. He rode the creature as the legs gave way both natural and mechanical under the sheer bulk of the body. After the shock waves of noise ended he sat still for a moment to determine if the mutant was still a threat. He felt a faint pulse that faded leaving the flesh under him cooling. Once the target was reduced to a heap of meat he stood up. "Jackie?"

She felt a bit sick, and it showed in her voice as she answered, "Yeah?"

The weakness of her voice gave him pause. He moved so he could see her leaning forward. He reached up toward her, "Jump." She must have had her reliance still fully placed on him even with the way she felt as she let go of the edge and slid down into his arms. He curled them around her for a moment. There was a slight delay before her arms snaked up around his neck and squeezed into a hug. He tightened his own grip before letting her go. She settled down onto the soft rubbery mound beneath their feet. An odor of burnt skin, grease, and raw sewage wafted over them. Jackie gave Riddick a look that read 'gross' and clambered to the floor. He had to agree. The combination was not pleasant. He gave her a moment to steady herself then followed her down. He was rather glad to have survived that one, truth be told. He stood for a second just looking at the size and bulk of flesh and metal. Riddick shook his head. What madness prompted 'golls to make such monsters? Still pondering that question he walked over to his shirt and looked at it. He didn't even want to touch it; "I'm not putting that back on."

"Ugh, please don't," her face took on a pale greenish shade for a moment. Jackie looked around and spotted a dead Merc. The only other body to be seen was broad shouldered, and nicely built. If it had been pants or boots Riddick needed though, he'd be fresh out of luck as the metallic foot of the mutant had flattened and shattered the lower half of it. The chest and shoulders were unmarred, and the blonde cyborg looked to be about the same size, if not slightly larger. In any case, a dead man's tank was far better than a bloody one. "Here. This is better." Riddick lifted the man's tank and slipped into it. "Flight deck?"

The question made Riddick pause. If they just high-tailed it off this ship what would happen? Likely they would be tracked and followed under Chillingsworth's orders. A 'goll with a bone to gnaw never let go. And he'd royally pissed her off. So they had to disable this boat so that it couldn't pursue them. Smirking, he looked at Jackie, his silver eyes dancing in merriment. "Wouldn't you like to inflict some of your own brand of revenge, Jack?" She gave him an odd look, having never seen him in this mood before. He stifled his laugher, "Main computer?"

He was asking her what she wanted to do. She took a breath and patted the pocket 'puter that she'd been fiddling with, writing code to pass the time that she was pretty sure would produce error after error in any computer it was set loose in. It was perfect. An evil grin spread over her face, "Lead on." Riddick picked up the Merc's gun and blasted them a path. It was the quickest, safest route. Jackie watched him eliminate walls; he was no stranger to this. The path led them to the back of the room. Jackie pulled out the pocket 'puter and linked up to the main data core. Should she spare them at all? Should she leave anything alone? She looked over at him with a question, "How fucked up do you want her?"

"How fucked up can you make her?" He cocked his eyebrow at her, the large gun sitting casually across one arm.

"I can take out pretty much everything…" She looked at him. Maybe not life support, gravity, and the lights she figured. He just watched in silence. "Yeah, okay." Jackie set to work. She dumped a number of her created threads of data into the ship's computer targeting its basic command functions for the engines, scanners, and communications. She cracked into the memory core and locked it into the merc guild's database. She wanted to cackle with glee. Instead she mimicked his smirk and said, "All done. Can we go now?"

He trusted her skills. His smirk morphed into a genuine smile as he tilted his head and reached for her. "Come on. Let's get to the flight deck." She tucked herself into his side, his arm around her shoulders, as they headed out the main door into a very empty corridor.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The climb had been a long one. The first ladder opened onto a lower service level filled with parts and crates. They inched through the resulting maze only to face several other ladders. They had to be nearly there. It had been quiet, and Abu figured that the silence was due to the fact that the trackers were after Riddick and Jack not them. He put his hand on the hatch and turned the latch. The panel in the floor moved smoothly aside. His eyes scanned the scene as he carefully peered out. Ships scattered about the launch area, hoses snaking across the metallic floor, and not a soul in sight. He looked down at Lujjan and Carolyn, mustering up a smile. They had reached the flight deck. He let out a sigh of relief, but did not throw caution to the wind. He again carefully raised his head, looking once more to be sure before placing his hands on the floor and raising himself with a push. He did not see the black boots standing directly behind him head however. So with it appearing that the coast was clear he looked back down and smiled again. Junner waited, allowing the dark skinned man to pull himself up and clear of the hatch before knocking him out with the stock of his gun. Abu was not sure what hit him and didn't even cry out as he crumpled to the floor.

Lujjan had no clue that they were moving into a trap. She noted that Imam was clear and reached for the next rung to find a gloved hand grabbing her wrist. The grip hauled her out and she felt a sharp pain before knowing nothing more. Junner swiftly dumped her on the floor next to the Imam. He returned to his fishing. Fry narrowed her eyes and backed down a bit but was too slow to avoid the strong grip that circled her throat and lifted her out of the service hatch. "Look at what we have here." Junner sounded quite smug but angered. He expected that the other two would be behind the docking pilot, but a glance showed that the stairwell was empty. His anger upped a notch, "Where are they?"

Choking, Carolyn flipped the man off before landing two fairly strong punches right in his face. She even managed a swift kick to the groin. In hindsight, the kick might have been a bad idea, because the end result was that he went from slightly-pissed-off-but-curious to deadly.

With a grunt Junner slammed the docking pilot back against a hard surface began to squeeze the life out of her. He'd take pleasure in this rather hands on approach, never mind that she'd not be able to answer his original question. So what route did he want to take, the slow crush or the neck snap? Um… He had to admit that she had fire to her as the blonde struggled in his grip. With his spare hand Junner straightened his glasses. The woman flipped him off again before clawing at his gloved hand around her throat. He eased up enough to prolong her death for his own pleasure, letting her gasp down just a hint of air. Yes, the slow crush was always so – quickening.

Fry glared. The bastard was playing with her. Playing. With. Her. Life. She saw red as rage fueled her with increased strength. Her knee came up again and slammed into Junner's gut. He let out an "ooff" noise as the air left his body, but he did not let go. "Please, keep fighting. It's so much better when my victim struggles." The taunt was damning. Part of her wanted to go limp to defy him. Part of her knew that if she gave up he'd just snap her neck. At least he wasn't trying to rape her. But she knew she wouldn't be able to keep this up for very long. Where were Riddick and Jack?

OoOoOoOoOoO

Two rather out of place figures made their way down pristine wide corridors. They were both ready, at an instant, to slip into cover should the need arise. Their ears were fine-tuned to the sounds of feet. Yet all they heard was their own soft steps. They clambered up through the levels of the _Kubla Kahn_ expecting to meet with mercs around every bend and met no one. Riddick was puzzled by the absence. The way to the flight deck was clear – too clear. The fine hairs on his neck lifted in warning as the door came into view. They had not even encountered a normal crewmember. He glanced over at Jack, and they paused at the door. "Stay back, hidden. Don't do anything 'uncivilized.' Got it?" Shaken out of her personal thoughts about how strange the trip had been to reach this point Jackie nodded. Riddick had shielded her thus far, and she knew that when it came to fighting her ability was lacking. It was a matter of common sense really. But the darkness inside her, like the one inside Riddick, wouldn't just cower in the dark if the other were threatened. It was determined to watch his back. She knew that if Riddick was threatened…. All bets would be off. No one messed with her mate and lived to brag about it. No one. Riddick opened the doors. They could hear the sounds of a woman gasping for air. Riddick didn't hesitate. Jack watched as he swiftly moved in to confront the unseen assailant. "Let her go."

Junner responded with an, "Hmm." Jackie went numb. She slipped in to the bay hugging the shadows along the wall. She had to stay out of sight and keep her eyes open. She couldn't make a mistake like she'd done when they arrived here. Getting caught by Junner was not an option now that they were so close to getting away. Besides, the idea of becoming the bitch-witch's newest piece of art just did not appeal.

Riddick eyed Carolyn Fry's condition as she weakly struggled in the death grip around her throat. It was risky, but he knew the other man itched for a chance to fight him. Would he take the bait? "It's me you're after. You want a shot at the title?" He punched his fist into his hand to show that he meant business. His face contorted in emotion that could be read as anger, pure and hot. What rolled about in his gut though was a mass of emotions that he didn't dare look at too closely.

"Where is the girl?" In spite of the question he let go of the blonde he was choking. He allowed the docking pilot to fall to the floor, no longer concerned with her in the slightest. His eyes darted first to the bald man advancing on him then past his form to the shadow mottled walls and nooks made by the various ships. She could be anywhere, truly, but he was sure that she was here just out of sight.

Riddick shrugged. "Dead, maybe? Lost, perhaps? Besides the point at the moment, don't you think?" He kept on advancing toward the other man with menace. Riddick pulled his shiv. The razor sharp blade was tinted with various shades of blood, giving the silver metal a very sinister look in the harsh light of the flight deck.

Carolyn quickly backed up out of the way in a crab-walk as Junner shed his coat. She watched the white fabric slither to the floor as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes were then drawn back upwards by the movement of a black long-barreled gun. She watched Junner slide his sword out of its place where it mated with his rifle. The man then bent, never removing his eyes off of Riddick, placed the gun on the floor, straightened, and toed it away. Fry's eyes followed the gun as it slid across the metallic floor into the shadows at the base of a ship.

Jackie heard the sound of Junner's coat falling to the ground and his blade being slid out of his gun. Scraping told her that the firearm was being slid across the floor. She scurried silently around a ship, staying out of sight but closing in on the action. Concealed by deep shadows she watched as the two men, one bronzed and broadly muscular the other pale as snow with sinewy limbs, assessed each other. Junner was slightly taller, his blade longer but undoubtedly slower. Riddick, she knew, was faster in spite of his bulk. Even with Junner's reach she guessed that the pair was rather evenly matched. She just wished that they had seen the taller man in action before this. Riddick moved in closer, drawing his opponent's attention fully to him. Jackie remembered that she needed to keep moving, to stop placing herself in danger. She slid out of sight of the battle just as Junner jabbed at Riddick who was just beyond his reach. The sound of heavy-soled boots connecting with metal sounded off that Riddick had kicked the blade away.

Riddick felt the jar as his foot connected hard with the other man's longer blade. The bastard was stronger than he looked; perhaps he had implants that were not visible. The sword remained firmly under control much to his dismay. Still, the opening is a good one, so he moved in low leading with one shoulder and swept his claw-like shiv up high aiming for his opponent's throat. Junner neatly dodged sideways and backwards without really giving up any ground. There was a savage thrill in taking on someone who was skilled with a blade rather than it being a secondary weapon used in desperation. Johns used his concealed blade as a third draw even, but Junner's blade moved like an extension of his body. Riddick let his instinct take over making the blade fight seem more like a dance then the deadly struggle that it truly was.

Watching the two combatants as she scurried backwards, Carolyn finally felt the fabric of Imam's robes. She sank to the floor with one hand circled on the dark skinned man's ankle. He was still warm, and her fingers could feel the throb of his heart as blood flowed to the time of his pulse, slow and steady in his unconsciousness. That fact was one that spread through her with a wave of relief. At least Abu was still alive. The thought that she should look him over for wounds tickled at her awareness, but her eyes were captive to the movements of the two men gracefully attempting to kill one another. The fight continued as Riddick and Junner circled locked inside their own world that consisted of thrusts, dodges, blocks, feints, and counters. It was hypnotic to watch and Fry was entranced by the lethal splendor of it.

He had to admit, less grudgingly than he wanted to divulge to anyone except himself, that the convict was skilled with that shiv. The man currently was dodging one of Junner's slicing blows. The bespectacled man let the force of the blow carry him into a defensive position just in time to block a swift stab from the claw-like blade. His opponent backed up a step without really leaving much space for a fancy move. Lacking room to even force Riddick back further, Junner thrust with the point of the blade, thinking that he would at the very least catch Riddick's arm with the blow. He found, however, that the motion was expected. His grip firmly at the mercy of the broad man's larger hand, he snarled in anger as he came glasses to goggles with a face rather distorted with its own version of the same expression. That caused his carefully planned strategy to fly out the window. He clenched his other hand into a fist and descended the fight a notch by slugging the overly close body with near wild abandon.

The sting and flash of pain overtook any pretence that Riddick had of playing fair. 'You really don't want to start playing dirty with me. You won't like the result,' he mentally warned the taller man who was readying himself for another powerful punch. Not giving his opponent the chance, Riddick ground his fist into the man's kidneys forcing him to pull his blow short. It still stung, of course, but the punch was not nearly as damaging at Junner must have wanted it to be. He squeezed the fine-boned hand in his grip, wondering if Junner realized that he could have stabbed him in the back. Just at the pale fellow splayed his hand and pushed Riddick away while twisting his sword free, Riddick further wondered why he hadn't. 'Damn, that was a wasted opportunity.' He nearly missed Junner's charge with his preoccupation but managed to whack him aside before taking a defensive stance. As they circled it occurred that perhaps he _was_ going soft, particularly since Shazza had given him that damn breather of hers…

The docking pilot watched the fight with mounting fear. So far, Riddick had not even landed a blow. He'd grappled, countered, blocked, and feinted, but Junner sported nary a bruise. She expected the bronze skinned man to stick his shiv to the hilt into the other man's back, and it looked for a moment that Riddick's intention was to do just that, but instead he twisted his fist into the spot. She heard Junner land a second strike with his fist and winced at the sound. That had to hurt. The pair stumbled apart, Junner rushed and was nearly thrown aside, before they circled and begun the deadly dance again. Fry watched as the seconds passed. Riddick jabbed forward, only to have his blade kicked aside. Junner then thrust but was met by a full body slam. His reaction is to grab the wrist connected to the bladed hand. Riddick countered by doing likewise. The fighters panted as they struggle. Riddick maintained his grip as he hurled the other man into the side of a ship hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The metallic clang vibrated through the flight deck.

Sounds of swooshing blades, fists hitting flesh and grunts filled the air. Jackie scrambled around just in time to witness the two men lock into a struggle that forced Junner back against a ship. She ducked and scanned for the gun. Junner forced Riddick off with a kick. Their blades clashed repeatedly. Then Riddick's shiv went flying through the air. She heard it clatter to the floor, but her eyes locked onto the convict ducking under a deadly blur of silver before catching the arm holding the sword. With a neat twist he disarmed the taller, thin man. The long blade sailed in an arc into the shadows. Her eyes followed the metallic form until her ears confirmed that it was on the ground. As Jackie's eyes went slowly back to the battle they spotted the black long barreled gun in the darkness about halfway across the bay. She carefully set off that direction keeping under cover and silent.

He'd never fought hand-to-hand for so long before. The struggle to catch his breath was nearly as difficult as it had been to disarm that razor sharp hooked blade. He felt dribbles of sweat making trails over his skin and observed that the other man had the telltale sheen too. In another life, he might have called the bronze skin over those bunched muscles alluring. Locked in this deadly struggle of his own making, though, Junner could barely spare the attention that noticing his adversary was winded took. His back smarted from the impact against the ship. He'd have a nasty bruise later, no doubt. His wrist ached from being brutally twisted, and he was surprised that his opponent stopped short of breaking his arm in favor of releasing him with a shove once his weapon was gone. He caught his balance, knowing that he still had reach on the other man. Something in that impassive face chilled him, settling ice in his overheated gut. Behind his glasses, Junner's eyes dart as he readied himself for the advance that he knew was coming. The Riddick's leg was in reach. He connected with the muscular thigh with his foot, ducked as an arm breezed past his head, and gracefully swung his body back upright with a strike of his own. His perception dwindled down to the repeated pain in his hands as he connected with flesh and the mirroring web-like pulses of pain as Riddick landed blows into him.

Jackie reached the gun and scooped it up, ducking back as the men continue to duke it out, brutally. It sounded evenly matched until Junner kicked Riddick back into a pile of crates and machinery. Cable, crates, and other parts of the stack fly out from the impact. Jackie can hear the sounds of boots as Junner moved away to recover his blade. Riddick was a distance from his shiv, and she was held in place by her promise to stay out of sight. The tall pale man scooped in his sword and returned for the kill, boot clacking against the floor.

Riddick watched the other man coolly retrieve his weapon. He knew that the sharp pain in his shoulder meant that it was dislocated or worse. Even if he had not been injured in the collision there was no way he could reach his shiv before Junner returned to chop his head off. Hanging next to his uninjured shoulder, snaking down from the ceiling and across the floor as a direct result from the scattered stack was a hot power cable. A plan quickly formed. He just needed to wait… Junner walked closer. Two more steps. One more... Junner swung for the kill and Riddick rolled away, snagging the cable with his right hand. A tidy little flick of his wrist translated into a flipped loop around Junner's neck. He pulled. Junner choked. Riddick pulled harder.

Then in a gross error of judgement, Junner cut the line. The lights went out. And Riddick was on him in a flash. Jackie heard him move, and she heard the sound of Riddick's shiv crunching through glass, squishing through soft tissue. Junner groaned then screamed as the blade drove home into his brain. The emergency lights started to come on. Junner's body hit the floor in a wet, dead, thud, with Riddick's shiv buried in his eye. "I told you that was coming." Riddick announced to no one in particular.

It was the deep male moan that started Carolyn out of her daze. She turned to see Imam wince as he rubbed his head where Junner had clobbered him. The docking pilot swiftly moved over to check on Lujjan who was still out cold. The odor of blood filled the flight deck, doing more to rouse the holy man than any other thing. He blearily scanned for Jack, noting his blonde companion before spotting Riddick holding his arm like he's been seriously injured. Imam kneeled down next to Lujjan and Carolyn. The princess is just coming around, clearly in pain. Near silent footsteps drew his eyes back to the broad shouldered man who was scanning the flight deck with is quicksilver gaze. There was no indication that Jackie was anywhere near by, yet Riddick, right hand holding his left arm steady and firm, seems unconcerned as he walks over to the sleekest six-man shuttle in the bay. He was nearly out of sight when Imam stood with a rustle of his robes and lurched forward, dizzy still from the blow he'd taken to his head. "Wh-where are you going?" He asked in a shaky voice.

Pain radiated across his torso from his left shoulder in aching waves of intense hot and cold. He couldn't rest, not yet. They were still not safe. Perhaps being together again, seeing that both Abu and Carolyn were alive at this late stage in the game meant that they weren't nearly as close to escape as he desperately wanted them to be. His eyes spotted a ship that would get them to the Helion system, "Gonna prep this ship and get off this heap."

Jackie crept out from her hiding spot. Fry was kneeling next to the unconscious princess. Riddick's entire being seemed to scream out in painful tension as he carefully put one foot in front of the other. Jackie moved more out into the open. "So _we_ can escape?" Imam asked as he gathered Lujjan up in his arms. Riddick merely motioned for him to follow. Jackie moved over to Imam and touched the docking pilot on the arm garnering a hopeful smile in the process. Riddick opened the hatch. Lujjan slowly moved her arms around the holy man's neck. "It is over," Imam assured the three women. "We have survived." Still, Jackie cannot discount the tingle on the back of her neck and the whispers of danger that caress her ears. The hatch spilled light into the bay, and a long shadow fell over them. The slim young woman's eyes are drawn towards the source of the wheezing, pained breathing.

The glance caught Riddick's eye. He had little time to ponder what she saw before his mind provided an image of the tall, white haired woman with her cyan blue rooms. The look in Jackie's eyes was hard, angered, fiercely protective, and scared. He had no doubt that bitch-witch stood behind him. By the sound of things the cybernetic woman-thing had come unhinged. She was cackling like a madwoman. Riddick's fine tuned senses scream at him that he was truly fucked.

It was a shocking thing to witness the wild, insane visage raise an ancient double barreled gun and level it at the single thing that had gotten them this far. The four witnesses were frozen and unable to move as time itself seemed to freeze around them. It pulled on the trigger, tightening its twitching arm and hand into a locked, sure, point-blank shot. "Back to hell with you, you bloody stinking savage!" The bang shattered the silence as Riddick fell.

Suddenly Jackie ceased to exist. In her place was something dark, primitive. Her vision held only enough room for the target in white that moved forward to loom over its mate's prone form. The gun slowly lined up with the head. There is no conscious thought involved. No past. No future. Only now. And she is the herald of death. A boom rang out. It is the noise that shatters innocence even in the vacuum of space. The she-demon retreated. Jackie blinked a slow blink. Reddish darkness gave way to high-heeled boots of white shiny leather emerging from soft cloth. Blood splattered folds outlining perfectly formed legs and a narrow waist. Crimson coppery fluid pooled around the torso and thin shoulders. But of that hated face, the fake hair… nothing but a splatter on the distant floor remained. The cruel, cold bell-like voice would bother them no more. The young woman feels the warm handle of the black gun still in her hands. The arid smoke issuing from the barrel tickles her nose. She let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding as the man on the floor stirred, slowly lifting himself into a kneeling position.

"Um--," he grunted as he lifted himself off the floor.

A feeling of lightness, of rightness, spread through her, "Yeah, we made it." Riddick looked at the headless body then at Jackie. He blinked. That had been one hell of a shot. He'd have to take her with him now. Tried or not, she had killed a Merc. One Merc or an uncounted number, it did not matter to the guild, Jackie had bought herself a permanent record.

"Awfully uncivilized thing you just did there, Jack," Riddick told her. He moved into the ship. Imam carried Lujjan past her behind Riddick. After a moment Jackie felt Fry's arm around her shoulders urging her to follow. She dropped the gun as her feet carried her into the safety of the shuttle.

Once inside and secured, Riddick flew them out into space. Jackie waited until it was clear of the other ship's gravity and moved to check out Lujjan's leg. She shredded more of her shirt and found some stiff bars inside the medkit so she could splint it. Everyone sat quiet for a few hours. Jackie felt weak. 'I lost too much blood. I need to sleep,' she realized. Jackie leaned back and closed her eyes. As she drifted off she heard Imam, "Riddick?"

"Trouble?"

"Yes. It is nothing back there. What worries me lies ahead of us."

"Jack."

"I am concerned for her, Riddick, that--"

"I'm not leaving her behind."

"Even if she becomes – hunted, like you?"

"Like me? Johastein and the Merc Guild are already after her."

The computer beeped and highlighted a system. Lujjan limped over. "What is that place?"

"That's nowhere." Riddick punched a button. "I'm dropping you guys on New Mecca."

OoOoOoOoOoO

Back on the _Kubla Kahn_ the escape was noted by sharp eyes. The scruffy merc knew that the fleeting ship carried the convict with his payday. He was still damp from the necessary shower forced by the swim through sewage. The crew was in a panic. No one could find either the owner or the second in command. Toombs didn't give a shit about that. He hacked his file and was intent on collecting his due. All he needed was to wait until the chain of command released his ship to him and he'd be following Riddick wherever the trail led. Stupid 'golls. His eyes followed the bright streak of the shuttle until with a flash it jumped into faster than light speed. No matter. There was no place in the 'verse that Riddick could go that he couldn't track him. "Riddick," he growled. Richard B. Riddick. A name to commit to memory. Only he knew that Riddick was going by Smyth... No matter. He wouldn't give up. "We ain't done boy. Not by a long shot."


	19. When the Universe tries to Catch up

**A/N**: I introduce a number of minor characters here that are not canon. The majority of these will never be seen from again. They serve to set up an additional layer of threat to our heroes above and beyond that in COR. If the demand is there I may explore this area of the 'verse further as I follow Toombs's hunt for Riddick.

**When the Universe tries to catch up…**

System M-344/G was not exactly a place that any of them had heard of. It was an overlooked, ignored, triple star system that currently had no commercial value. Fact of the matter was the unusual dynamics of the outer stars, one blue orb balanced by a white and yellow pair opposite it, orbiting around the edge of a system of three planets made it a navigational hazard. It was backwards to everything that a solar system was supposed to be. The only saving grace was that the three stars seemed to exert a pull that was even against all the planets, eliminating tidal forces that they would have otherwise caused. Right now, the neutral net gravity was working against the tiny little rocky world that the ship orbiting, locking the entire system into a singularly odd straight line. The reality was that this was not a good time to be in this system nor anywhere near this planet at all. But the Newtownian Institute experts aboard this particular Alliance Shipping vessel really had little choice in the matter. Their sister company, New Olso Shipping, had lost a transport vessel, the Hunter-Gratzner, and it was up to them to figure out why.

What might be odd to those who had no knowledge of the Company was how so many different groups had come together to investigate this one crash. Unless one knew that the various names all belonged to a huge Corporation that handled everything from shipping to education… and from mining to the prisons often built once the world had been certified as no longer useful for anything else. Such might have been the fate of this world had the situation been different, 30 years ago. But for reasons unknown, or classified, it had not happened. The system had just slipped from view. Until one fateful day, 12 weeks ago. On that day a total of 31 people had died, here, in this system, on this planet… and in the following days more had died, too. Maybe all of them had. But as many as 11 had survived the crash….

But why had the crash happened at all? Nineteen weeks on route to Tangiers, from Conga… So how had the 'H-G', as it had been called by the rather affectionate mechanical crew back in the Conga system, ended up so far off course? That was the captain's problem, really. It didn't take much, a fraction of a fraction of a degree was all. And the H-G had been an old ship. The woman looked over the flight path again. Really it should have been put out of commission years ago. But the company did not decommission ships; they were shuffled down the ever-expanding list of new businesses until something happened. Something like this. Any number of things could have gone wrong. The distress signal by the ship's computer had alerted them to the crash within weeks of it happening. Had everything been on route the H-G would not even be in port yet. Hell, it would still be 10 weeks out. The captain put the readouts down and looked out at the odd system that swirled around them without a care. They were orbiting planet number two, currently darkened on both sides by planets one and three. The ship's orbit took them above the smaller planet blocking off the more distant sun. In the distance one of the possible causes for the H-G's crash was looping itself in a wide arc around the far blue orb. A rogue comet. "Lindsey? You got a scan of that?"

"Scan of what, sir?" the male science and sensor tech looked out at the star field for a moment before seeing the comet himself, "Oh, that? Yes, sir. Standard ice-ball in space. It could have done a job on an older ship like the H-G that had no shielding. Want me to radio down that they need to scan debris for holes?" The captain nodded, not that it mattered at the moment with their first scouting party being missing and all.

The official corporate investigator walked onto the bridge. "Got anything yet? Hear any word from the rangers that went down there?" He was a slender, somewhat twitchy, fellow. Not overly tall, nor handsome, but clearly someone with a strong stomach for disaster and a love of new puzzles. While he always looked for the truth of events, he was an efficient spin-doctor too, able to make even the worse situation sound like a wonderful success for the company. That talent had saved his neck more than once.

"No. We should have scanned the area more closely before sending them down, like I told you before. The scans of the crash site indicate abundant life in the area. The bombing spread created a dead zone… that lasted about an hour. By the time the rangers begin searching the area not only was it dark, but the native life was back in force." She hit a button on a display, "According to this, we will never hear back from those rangers, Mr. Griswald. They are all dead."

Griswald looked at the info splashed in front of him. "Alright, Captain Mercer. You made your point. It was a stupid loss of life. But you can place the blame directly on Carl Johastein. I was just following orders." He put his hands behind his back before turning to look at the disgruntled officer. There was a lengthy silence as the pair regarded each other. Finally he broke the tension, "Do we have anything, at all?" He sounded rather desperate.

"In spite the blunder… maybe. There's a rogue comet. Might have caused the ship to go down. The security cryolocker that William J. Johns had leased on Conga was found smashed. Hard to say if it was the impact or the convict inside. The chains and supports showed sighs of methodical movement. For some reason he was not asleep. Could be a malfunction in the equipment, but the Tech's report from the spaceport where it was installed states that it was 100 operational." Another crewmember walked over with additional files. "Also the lights had been removed from the crash ship. That alone indicates that more than one survivor was alive at the time the eclipse started. And there were 6 power cells missing from the engine." She paused to look at the data at hand. "Interesting. The water is draining from the shallow lowland lake we noted on arrival. There's a settlement not far from there that was overlooked on our initial scans."

"Alright, I want that checked out. And someone please get me some intel on the native life here? All the company records show this is a dead, lifeless world. Not a sign of flora, fauna, insect, or otherwise. So where the hell did these things come from?"

The captain looked at Griswald with surprise; "You have company records? Our database has nothing." Wouldn't be the first time that the company had sent them out to investigate as crash with only partial background data either… but to indicate that they completely skirted this system when they had done the initial surveys of the quadrant was irregular. Briefly the captain wondered why they'd do such a thing… Maybe the native lifeforms was the answer to that.

"It was a failed mining operation. Considered unimportant to this case." He tried to wave the woman's accusing look off. It didn't work. "All right, I'll get you the files. The corporation sent an advance team here looking for a rare mineral. They pulled the project after 7 years of careful searching. About 23 years ago the team was recalled. Well, at least that's what the records show. I haven't been able to track down anyone who has worked here."

"23 years ago, huh? Maybe they are still down there…" The captain walked from the investigator with a sigh. It would not surprise her really if they were. She'd stumbled into things the company tried to cover up before in this job. Occupational hazard that came with the territory. What saved her then, and would save her now, was that she knew how to keep her mouth shut. What her crew learned here they would forget in favor of whatever official version was presented. Griswald knew that. It was the only reason he preferred to continue to work with the caustic woman and her crew. The thoughts that the old mining team was still resting un-peacefully down on this supposedly desert world would never leave the bridge. "All right, let's look at this situation, shall we?" the captain looked at her science officers.

The small squad set to analyzing the data streaming in from the sensors. One thing caught Lindsey's eye. He watched for some time to make sure of what he was seeing before pointing it out, "Captain? Look at the movement patterns over on the blue sun side of the planet. See here? The areas that have no lifeform readings appear to be the ones that are momentarily exposed to sunlight as the blocking planet wobbles on its axis." He begin running the data into his orbital simulator. After a moment he showed her and Griswald how the lifeform movements echoed the tiny slivers of light that appeared on the planet's surface. "A recommendation? Send down spotlights and field generators, sir."

"Fantastic. Do it. I'll make a report to Johastein and let him know that there's been some progress made. And Captain Mercer… make sure to keep me in the loop, okay?" Griswald exited the bridge.

"Good work, guys. Now let's see if we can find out what the hell happened here." The captain moved off to get another squad of rangers suited up and ready to go. She walked through her ship looking at all the science types scuttling from one lab to another. 'Ants. They are like little, busy, ants… watch them…' she really had no idea what the individuals were working on. It could have been the same thing Lindsay noted, or spectral analysis of the stars, or the last transmission from the rangers… likely though it was all of the above and more. Mercer was not a science type herself. She just kept the ship running. Nor was she one of the military sorts. And yet, once again here she was face to face with a trained ranger, killer par none, who somehow managed to scare the shit out of her even though he was totally respectful. "We found something those monsters down there don't like. So suit up and get your squad in the bay."

"Yes, sir! Special ops, sir?"

"I'm asking you, right? You're special ops, right? Just get your ass in gear and move."

The fellow signaled over to his squad and they begin suiting up. "Captain, sir? Permission…"

"Of course," she waved his formality away.

"What shit happened with the last squad?"

"They got caught in the dark… So I'm sending you down with powerful spotlights and sealed generators. Set up and secure around the settlement. A second squad will revisit the crash site and do the same. Then your job will be to guard the techs gathering information at both locations. You will be in charge of both groups. We'll leave the lights down there when we are done… collecting them is not worth your lives."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he saluted her and turned to his own gear. Mercer walked out. She would get the techs specialized in forensics down on the surface once the place was secured. In the meantime she was going to do some digging and find out what Griswald knew about the passengers. She had a feeling that whoever was on this boat would explain why Johastein was involved to the point of intrusion in what should have been a quick little glance of a job. Hell, the comet took a swipe at the G-H and it did an emergency landing on planet number two... which then went into an eclipse and the survivors were eaten, much as her first squad of rangers had been eaten. Case closed, right? She reached the investigator's door and beeped it.

The man inside was looking over several streams of data. The light discovery explained why this world was listed as dead. In normal conditions the second planet was bathed in an endless day. Only once every 22 years did this odd gravitational event come into play. It looked to him like the planet would remain in the dark, partially at least, for anywhere from three to fourteen years, depending on the various ticks in the system. He was expecting Mercer; "Come in." The door opened. Griswald was looking over a copy of the flight path data. He raised an eyebrow. "Problem, Mercer?"

"Maybe. But you might be able to help me. Why is Johastein so invested in this crash? There was no company cargo. His name was not attached to any of the passengers that I could tell. The insurance value is the square root of nothing." She sat down, "Yet, he's breathing down your back. Why?" Griswald grunted at her. Sometimes his need for allies was greater than his fear of getting snapped. He fished out a yellow security card and slid it over to Mercer. She looked at him, "Deep security? What the hell is going on, Griswald?"

"Just look at the files again, Mercer. You'll see."

"I'd better do it here," she reached for his computer screen. He nodded at turned back to his own set of data in his palm pad. The captain slid in the security card and reopened the existing background files. The crew scrolled past. No difference there… no connections, except for the docking pilot's heavy debt to the company for her flight schooling. Only difference at this level was that the interest continued to mount before Mercer's eyes. 'Carolyn Fry… you poor girl, you'll never pay off that debt,' she sighed, 'even if you did survive.' She noted that the woman had not taken the rather expensive certification exam to move up into the next pay bracket either. It was likely a smart move; the increased pay would never offset the increased debt. Still, Johastein wouldn't pick a pimple on his ass over that. Nearly half the pilots coming out of flight school owed the company.

The passengers began to scroll up. Here the record had been amended slightly with margin notes that Griswald had seen fit to insert. 29 files of nothing… Cryolockers for those passengers were clearly destroyed in the crash. Comparing the tickets with the scans showed that all 29 lockers still contained bodies. Many cooked like potatoes in foil… But what of the other ten? The one open locker away from the ship indicated that a male had survived, maybe. The on the outside blood indicated that Riddick had gotten to the locker. Why that had been one of the first things Johastein had ordered them to look for was the puzzle. Likely the fellow inside, Marcus Smyth, had been his first victim… except there was no blood inside the locker. Smyth owned a business on Tangiers and did big game hunting as a hobby. He was well to do, and not connected with the company, choosing to sell locally made goods to a niche market. Only with investigation would they be able to tell if there had been a fight and who had won it.

John 'Zeke' Ezekiel was next on the list. His situation placed him as being one very strong possible survivor, along with his life-mate, Shannon 'Shazza' Montgomery who was the next down. The pair was registered bushwhackers, independent non-guild killers for hire. It was possible that they had been hired by Smyth to lead a hunting trip. The background of the pair was like night and day. He was dirt poor. She was filthy rich. He was an uneducated earth-native miner. She was a top-of-the-class, space-smart socialite. Their union had caused quite a stir a few years back when Shannon had been 21. Well more than a few years, really. It was closer to 16 years ago now, Mercer reminded herself. Who would have imagined that the pair would possibly end up here, dead? She prayed for a moment that she'd not be stuck with telling the older Mr. Montgomery that his only child had been killed and eaten… considering that they didn't have a body to take back with them. She looked up at Griswald; "Did you know that Shannon Montgomery was on this boat?" He nodded without looking back at her. "You think she might have made it?"

"Let's hope, okay? I don't look forward to telling her old man."

Mercer put her hand over her mouth before looking back at the records. The point of the matter was that having a trillionaire's daughter die on an unnamed planet might be enough for Johastein to get involved. That would require more research into outside connections to uncover, and frankly she was looking for something more obvious. Next on the list was the insurance claim source, Paris P. Ogilvie. His cargo had been the most expensive cargo on the trip. And yet… none of it was anything Johastein would be interested in. It was all antiques, art, and well-aged liquor. She sighed. Strike another one off the short list. "I'm not seeing what you think Johastein's interested in."

"Then you haven't read everything yet. Keep going. You will know when you reach it."

"Right." She looked back at the passenger manifest. Next up was Imam Abu Al-Walid. Cleric of the Chrislam church on New Mecca, member of the Helion government, and high-level connections with Tangiers 3. Listed in his charge were three Juveniles, Suleiman, Hassan, and Ali Abdullah, brothers who were being escorted on a hajj to New Mecca. He'd picked them up at Conga of all places, and was taking them to Tangiers for a brief visit according to their uncle's statement. The notes Griswald had scribed and attached indicated that the boys had been enrolled in schools in the New Meccan Quarter as Helion's educational system was second to none. Additionally, their uncle was making noise about canceling his company contracts and going with local manufacturing and labor for his desalinization plants that provided water to a number of company worlds. Such a move would cripple mining in the Tangiers sector. But that was not Johastein's area. And crippling mining in Tangiers would actually benefit Johastein's operations at the frontiers of the Company's reach…

Her list was getting mighty short. Okay there was the boy, Jack B. Badd. Not much to go on. No matches in the database for the name. No clues as to the child's point of origin. "Did you run a missing persons on this one? The kid might be a runaway, you know. He could have parents looking for him."

"Funny you should mention that. Johastein told me not to bother, because nothing was going to show up. Know what? I looked anyhow. Nothing matched. If the kid is a runaway, he's not from a regular family, but a company home. I think there's more to it, but have no fucking idea where to look. But that's not what Johastein is up in arms about. Look at who was in that rented Cryolocker…"

Last two names on the list… William J. Johns, ex- E-tack, military tracker, second stint in the Marine Military Police. She blinked at the file. Survived the Wailing Wars. Successful at 100 recapture of AWOL's from the front lines. Johns was good at what he did. She leaned back and popped her shoulder. Clean discharge. Signed on with the Merc Guild and qualified for a Marshal's tag. For the last number of years he'd been tracking the most clever and sneaky runners. High-risk jobs. And he did it well. 17 out of 18 captured and claimed. Only one missed. That one was the man he was taking to Tangiers Penal. Which led her to her final entry… and Johastein's name flew off the readout at her…

Richard B. Riddick… First she noted the outstanding criminal warrants for him. Five different planets, in three different systems, all held charges base in his last run from Butcher Bay and Ursa Luna Double Max. Two of those planets were in Conga. Another was Kova, for attacking a freighter. The final two were right under the Merc Guild's nose in the Lupus system, at Lupus 5 and an outlying outpost. There was a list a mile long of slams he'd escaped from, nearly every triple and double max out there. And a few were listed twice. The dates indicated that he'd been in and out over the last 10 years… more out than in. He was listed as a guard who'd snapped on the old records. A guard from Altair, to be exact. But the new security code opened up new data… Data that called into question that he'd ever been a guard at Altairs Penal, where he was listed for nearly 3 years as 'in residence'. Altair was known as a high security, deep storage, triple max. Inmates there were kept on Ice, or in cryo. Ninety-five percent of them were political or cyber criminals. The other five percent were psychos so bad that no one else would take them. And Riddick's real training listing neatly eliminated the cybercrime option. He was no computer hacker too dangerous for general prison population. And his escapes indicated that he was not crazy either. That left one option for the ex- ranger, Head of Security at Sigma 3 directly under Carl Johastein… info not in the normal records. She looked at Griswald. He gave her a look that said, 'found it, huh?' She cleared her throat, "So he's political?"

"Best not to ask, Mercer… Just remember, that could be us…" They both knew it was true. She slid the card out and handed it back. She'd seen enough to realize that she was skirting deep trouble. She stood up and looked at Griswald. "I'll make like you were never in here, Mercer. It's better that way. Unless you want the crew to think that we've started having sex or something in here." The captain had gotten two steps from the door when Griswald's sly comment was uttered.

"I'd rather fuck one of those predators down on M-344/G-2 in all actuality, Mr. Griswald." She heard him laugh behind her.

"Me too, Captain Mercer." He watched her soften her shoulders as she smiled to the door. "It's okay, I'm not going to hold it against you. But the crew does talk about your trips into my office."

She laughed this time. "Let them talk." The rangers passed her by as she headed back to the bridge. They wore business-like faces. It was their job to put their lives on the line. Each one knew it. The sweeper squad had been lost, now it was their turn to face death. Only this time they had light with them. They filed into the transport.

"You ready for this Hanson?" The leader asked his pilot.

"Yes, sir. Double load, two drops… Flare lights on parachutes then troops and equipment. Setting you up at the settlement, sir." He gave the pilot thumbs up and strapped himself into the drop system. "All loaded, controller. Permission to depart?"

"Permission granted. Flight deck clear in 30 seconds for take-off. Copy?"

"Roger." The pilot waited the required delay and glided the large craft out of the even larger ship. This was the second drop he'd made over this hellhole of a planet. The first troops weren't coming home he'd been told. They thought the bombing would scare the damn natives off, only it hadn't. This time they were trying light. Hanson hoped it worked. He liked these guys; most of them were friends. He'd be pissed at the company for wasting time here if they died too. He gathered his thoughts back together and focused on the task at hand. A couple of taps brought up the suggested flight path. He made an alteration and zeroed in on the drop point. "Ready for drop one… Flares will light on impact."

A voice from the back echoed "Drop one… Green for Drop." Flares tumbled out the back. About five percent hit things in the air hard enough to spring to light. It made the hammerheads visible and angered. However, it did drive them back. The same voice muttered, "Holy shit…"

Hanson had no time to waste. He looped the ship back over the drop zone now nicely lit in green. "Ready for drop two." He waited for the green on the next drop before opening the doors. The crates with the spotlights and generators gently landed as he turned for his final pass to this area. "Ready for drop three…"

"Get those light harnesses turned the fuck on, now!" the squad leader ordered. "We are dropping into this, people. That's our job. Grab your panties and get ready to go." The leader looked at his sub-commander who was going back to the crash site. "Kick some ass." Then back to Hanson, "We are green for drop three." He followed half his troops into the sky aware that the only things protecting him were the flares on the ground and the lights in his harness. By the time he landed his squad was opening crates and putting things together. Before the last flare died the first spotlight was up and running. He moved to make sure that they all got turned on. Then he called his people together. "Sweep and secure the settlement. Kill any locals you find, but don't touch anything. If a building has closed doors then secure it… using the light. We have spots for each structure. Again don't touch anything. Forensics are coming down to gather evidence." He got a chorus of 'yes sir' before being left to contact the ship. He reached Mercer. "Successful touchdown, captain. All lights are working. When forensics is sent down I strongly suggest using glowsuits."

"Noted. Passing on that the Crash team also had a successful touchdown. Contact me again when everything is secure. I want to get this over with."

"Yes, sir."

Mercer was back on the bridge. She looked at her crew. Hopefully soon they could be done with this and get back into settled space. All manner of odd things were rumored to exist out here on the fringes. Old settlements gone bad, ghostly haunted planets, religious zealots, twisted remnants of the first waves of humanity in space… the things that made up the stock of children's fairytales in this day and age. Only, she knew that they were real. She'd seen the evidence of it in the company records. Looking at this warped system she could believe that there were even more strange things out in this region of space than the company knew. Just as the rangers were sending back that the sites were secure, Griswald walked back in. "The light worked?" She nodded at him. He smiled in spite of the situation. "And the research teams?"

"Dropping in 30."

Finally they would get some real evidence. And from that perhaps come to some real answers. Griswald rocked on the balls of his feet. He'd been having a hard time with Johastein. The bastard (though he'd never call him that to his face) was demanding answers for things that they just didn't have the data to answer yet. He walked over and looked at the scans. "We find the black box yet?"

"No, Mr. Griswald. It seems that the homing beacon technology was not employed in this ship style. There's a long trench of debris behind the ship. If we have enough light the troops will manually search it." He scrunched up his face and nodded. All he could do was wait for the science types to make their jumps and begin collecting evidence. It was all any of them could do. They soon got confirmation of the drops. Mercer relaxed slightly. The observations began to flow in from both teams.

What they learned led Griswald to form the opinion that Riddick had broken out of his cryolocker and sabotaged the ship, officially at least. The evidence for the ship running into the comet's tail was there but did not explain how the H-G had gotten so far off course, heading the wrong way. But the rented Cryolocker gave plenty of evidence that the convict had gotten out. So his deduction was that although it might have been pilot error, Riddick's escape was more likely. The blood on Smyth's cryolocker had a faint trail washed into the soil leading away from it… and to a large area of blood splattered over the side, interior, and floor of the storage hold. The blood checked out as Riddick's. By the volume, Griswald concluded that the man had been shot. The bits of bone and brain matter located inside the storage area supported that he'd taken the blow in his head. Griswald closed the file on Riddick. The man was dead.

But Johastein was not ready to let them leave yet. They were placed under orders to gather everything, all biological samples they could find for further analysis. Inside the crash ship they collected medical kits that had been used suggesting seven survivors at that point. They also recovered a morphine laced glass tube, and spent O-2 tanks. The tanks also suggested that seven people had been at the crash site after the eclipse had begun. Somewhere between the crash and the settlement three survivors died.

Of the survivors evidence indicated that Smyth, Imam, Badd, and Fry made it off planet. The records in the settlement indicated that there was an emergency skiff, no longer planetside. Fry was the only pilot… by default she had to make it. There were blood drops that indicated that Smyth was alive up to the point that they started ripping out the optics. There were fingerprints uncovered at the settlement that seemed to be over the top of the dust disturbances made by the rain that were definitely Smyth's. The sand cat was parked in the center of the settlement. The optics was still on it, and the generators looked shorted out by high water. And someone had cleverly made it work off a power cell from the engines. But inside the cat's bed the researchers found a Chrislam book, one that had an inscription to "Abu Al-Walid". There was no blood, so Griswald assumed that Imam made in into the skiff. But… there was blood at the crash…blood and a body at the settlement… and blood traces on the sandcat that indicated all of his pilgrims had been lost. They also found a bottle of finely aged whisky with enough evidence to make a match on Paris. He had been on the sandcat… but had he made it into the skiff? Indications were that at some point the optic cable had been severed by a shotgun blast… Likely then he had not survived. Badd on the other hand was a guess. There was no blood… no nothing. But someone had been carried into the skiff; the ground showed clearly heavier footsteps, but not enough for the survivor to have been an adult. Of Shazza, Zeke, Paris, and Johns…. There were no signs… but for some blood sprays and splatters that matched the bushwhackers' genetic records at the crash site and nearby grave.

Once the settlement and crash and been searched the rangers carefully begin sweeping the area in between the two locations. It required painstakingly lighting the way. Water in the canyon indicated that likely the 'cat had gone along the top ridge. Following that route the rangers recovered Paris' lighter, glasses, and metallic whisky flask. Further along they found Johns' marshal's badge and shotgun. Spent shells indicated a rather wild pattern of shooting into the darkness in both locations. There was faint blood in the dirt… and evidence that the merc had tried to kill something and caused a landslide. Another abnormality that was collected was a handmade blade with Smyth's fingerprints on it.

Other items recovered from the settlement included 10 used goblets, a pile of hair, some of which was clearly pulled out… there was blood and skin attached to some of it. A dull razor with blood that keyed out as female… most puzzling… bloody underwear, sealed in plastic… And assorted swabs of blood from different places. One of the final things collected was some thick blue goo… Each of the items would be put through careful testing. After three days of searching the black box was recovered. There was little useful on it. All it could verify was that the computer thought they were still on course. That the ship had crashed. Twelve people had survived the initial impact. They begin the 10-week trip back to Ursa Luna. With the only detour being the pick up of a Kovan distress call that put them a week behind but filled with a load of Guild Mercs who had been under contract with the Chillingsworth family.

The biology analysis began right away. Griswald worked closely with them but the Captain and crew had no idea as to the exact nature of the work. The various swabs keyed out confirmation of the dead… At the settlement little Ali Abdullah had died. The other biological evidence was from a girl, an unknown. And that in itself made it a bit of a special interest. The blood on the sandcat was that of Suleiman Abdullah. Along the route, at the site of the landslide, the stains read for Johns. Where the lighter, flask, and glasses had been found, they also got faint readings for Paris. At the crash site grave the stains were for Zeke. Shazza's blood was found as a fine covering inside the grooves along the door of the cargo hold where the bits of bone and brain were recovered from Riddick… there was no indication if the two were related. Inside the cargo hold a smear was verified for Hassan Abdullah. In the main body of the crash bloodstains were connected with Owens and the captain of the H-G. So, who was the girl?

By the time they returned to the institute they were able to give Johastein the news he was waiting for. The project was handed off to experts, and the ship workers were glad to be rid of it. They were very glad. The two teams of experts set to work in the tiny specks of life delivered into their care. Technically, what they were doing was highly illegal. For the first project, based off the blue goo, identified as Hammerhead blood, the embryos were not an issue. It was a matter of scientific study. As the danger was too great to study the creatures from M-344/G-2 in their native habitat watching them in an artificial mockup was the only option. The biologists set to the task with gusto.

The second project though, would have raised moral problems if it had gotten out that they had a viable embryo from the genetic material from the unknown girl. It seemed to be of special interest to Johastein. He insisted that the project be completed. The attempts to match up the genetics with the database lead nowhere. There was not even a partial match in any form. The looked among the prison population, the registered civilian population, the guild database… nothing. Yet Johastein insisted that they place the fetus into an artificial womb and maintain the fast growth of the first trimester for as long as it was scientifically possible. There were problems with that, of course… premature aging for one. But they knew better than to argue. They put a secretive, round-the-clock, watch on the project. Johastein checked in on it, in person, once a month. He made it clear that he would take the child and care for it once it reached the correct stage. There was nothing really that they could do about it. After 8 months and 3 weeks Johastein had the now fully-grown, but not yet sexually mature, girl switched into cryosleep. Her body resisted the push from rapid growth to a sudden, full stop. In the week that it took for him to transfer her from Ursa Luna's Newtownian Institute to Lupus 5 she underwent additional changes. She was a young woman by the time she woke up…


	20. Furya and the Spirits who Guide her

Furya and the Spirits who Guide her… 

A shiver swept over her skin, rippling under the layers of clothing and leaving the distinct awareness that her feet were moist with cooling sweat. Jackie was cold. Her leaden limbs couldn't even manage to curl around her slim form in an effort to retain body heat. She was tired. The muscles in her legs twitched and spasm from the effort exerted during the escape. Another forced run was out of the question now that the thrill and danger of the moment and fled from her body. Finally, after that waking nightmare of the _Kubla Khan_, she was safe. Or safe enough at least to feel exhaustion to the point that there was no way to keep her eyes open. She thought that perhaps the others were fighting off similar sensations.

Carolyn Fry sat next to her in one of the comfortable seats. The blonde's clothes rustled as she shifted to look forward at the three on the controls. She felt more than a little awe over what she had witnessed. Riddick had revealed more about how dangerous he was on the ship they were fleeing than he'd done on the planet. It had been necessary and she was not scared of him, oddly enough. No, it was Jackie that she was worried about. The young woman had shown no mercy when backed up against the wall and even less when Riddick was threatened. The change in Jackie, the darkness revealed in those moments, chilled Fry but not to the point that she would ever turn away from her friend. She reached over and took Jackie's hand and squeezed it lightly.

But even the touch of the docking pilot's grip in her cold hand helped Jackie as she struggled to stay awake. Riddick's voice rumbled in her ears… "That's nowhere. I'm dropping you guys on New Mecca," before everything begin to fade out. She internally growled at her weakness. 'Where is nowhere?' she wondered. Her will to stay with the others delayed her departure into nothingness and let her reflect on what she could feel. The cutter was temperate. It was warmer on this little cutter than it had been on the skiff that was for sure. The atmosphere was rich with oxygen. She felt lightheaded with it. The seats were comfortable. Her body just melted into the cushions. It was good to be safe again… It seemed like the entire universe was hostile and the only safe place was inside an insignificant tin can of a ship… in the middle of emptiness. She felt the chill deep inside her. 'Lack of blood,' she reminded herself.

She was floating in the black. The ebb and flow of her companions' voices flowed around her like music even though she was unable to understand the words they were speaking. She let it just happen for a while. Riddick's rich, deep bass flowed like velvet. Imam's tones were warm like a blanket. Lujjan's tinkled like splendor itself, while Carolyn's voice whispered across it all, sweetly pleading for her to not leave. Of course she wasn't going anywhere; they were in space, after all. Where could she go? She was scarcely aware of the metallic and vinyl undercurrents scenting the air fading to that of humid earth and leather. Evergreen trees and stone. The forest, rich and welcoming, assaulted her nose.

She forced her eyes open. Furya. The same orange star hovered on the horizon, in a different spot but still not overhead. Of course, it had to be the only place in the 'verse that she would, or could, leave Riddick for. But hell, she didn't want to be here. Not now. She stared at the Furyan sun with a glare, refusing to look elsewhere. "Shirah!" She called. Silence greeted her, so she spent more time glaring at the sky. She was struck by the odd sensation that the day here had the sun cutting across the sky rather low to the horizon. It was almost as if the planet spun on an unusual tilt wobbling like a top… It was more pleasant to wonder about the star than to look lower at the graves that spread out below her. But knowing that they were there was enough to cause her to look down at them… Morbidly, she walked over to one plaque that had been shattered.

"I gotta stop coming here. I really do," She looked around for Shirah knowing that the woman would be there somewhere. There was still no sign of her. Jackie sighed. She kneeled down and began putting the polished white marble pieces back in place. She couldn't read the writing, but the feeling she got was one of peace once the stone was set as right as she could make it. "Must suck to have your gravestone fucked up, huh?" she asked to the air around her. She slowly ran her hand over the broken pieces. "I'd mend it if I could…" She had a sudden flash of Lujjan's broken leg and pale delicate hands smoothing the shattered bone back into place. There was a light, an energy, around the area and the hands she saw looked familiar. She blinked the image away. That was weird… She stood up and looked over the graves again. The sight chilled her. "Shirah? Am I here 'cause I'm dying again?" She looked around, "Shirah?"

Silence continued for a long time after her voice died down. Jackie sighed again and glanced at the ledge she stood on. There was a cave. She hadn't noticed that before. Jackie walked into the darkened natural space. She blinked until her eyes adjusted. Paleness faintly glimmered in spots contrasted with twin holes of the deepest darkness, repeated over and over. It took a moment for it to sink in exactly what she was seeing. The cave was lined with tiny skulls. From top to bottom, every spare bit. Skulls of babies. More than she could count, more than she could comprehend… shock, numb and dead, flooded her brain. She couldn't breath. She couldn't move. Time itself seemed to come to a screeching halt as she stood there.

And then, time began to flow again. Pain exploded across her chest as her mind caught up to what she was standing in the middle of. Dark whispers of marching soldiers, fearful children huddled behind whatever shelter there were to be had, death screams echoed faintly through her ears. Each child represented here clamored for attention all at once. The maelstrom of images and noise stretched out in her mind as a sea of chaos and agony. She screamed, driven into giving voice to the souls whom had violently lost theirs in the throws of genocide. The vision receded but the emotional pain continued to rip at Jackie's heart. She'd heard Riddick talk about the company finding only a few survivors, but to see the evidence, to be confronted with it by the souls of the victims themselves… Someone had killed thousands of young children here… She collapsed in the middle of the chamber and sobbed.

The hushed weeping drew the apparitions that dwelled here closer. It had been a long time since any of them had heard one of their own, still connected to life, mourning over the tragic events that had happened. Two and a half decades long. The spirits stirring got the guardian's attention. She had known that Jackie could come here at will. She'd infused her with the protector's power because that was what she held to the strongest. Shirah walked out of the woods. She noted the gravestone put back into place. So Jackie had figured out how to coax out her own boon from the forces here? That was very interesting. Shirah looked toward the Cave of Innocence for a moment before kneeling down to run her own hand over the cracked stone… A spark of healing energy flowed from it. Shirah quirked an eyebrow. The young woman had surprises of her own it seemed. It had been generations since a healer had been born. Jackie would be like the classic forces associated with womanhood, able to create, maintain, and destroy life at will. Shirah decided that she needed to calm the sorrow and anger that welled from inside the youth. The blond warrior-woman walked into the cave behind Jackie and put a strong hand on her shoulder.

Jackie felt the touch was permeated with power. It calmed her slightly. She sniffled, "You gonna tell me what shit went down here?"

Shirah looked into Jackie's pained eyes, "In time. All you need to know now is that you are protected and protector. The pain and anger of the entire race will come to your aid when you need it." She stood her up and drew her back outside the cave. "Go back now, Jackie."

She tried to protest. She wanted to know now what had happened here, and who had done it. But Shirah was not revealing that yet. In fact, Shirah was not letting her stay a moment longer…Jackie blinked. When she opened her eyes Riddick was standing over her, his hands on her shoulders and his face twisted into a worried look. "Stop doing that shit, Jack."

She blinked. Her face was moist like she'd been crying… She reached up and put a hand on his chest, just to make sure he was real. She still felt groggy. "What shit, Riddick? I needed to sleep."

"Not for 34 hours you didn't!" He yelled at her. His fingers curled over her shoulders in a tighter grip. He shook her slightly. She could see he was scared; he didn't understand her tears, the visions she was having, the meaning of it all… She needed to calm him.

Her face became sweet with compassion, "Hey! Relax." Jackie reached up and put her hands on his face, "I'm sorry if I scared you. But I needed to sleep. You cut me deep and I really needed to just rest." His face softened. Her hands gently soothed him. He brushed his hands over her wrist before moving lower and tracing his finger over the pink line of newly healed skin that ran across the fleshy part of her lower arm. The motion drew her eyes down to it. The wound where Riddick had bled her was nearly healed. She looked at his arm and noticed the same thing. She grabbed the limb, "How did you heal so fast?"

"You did it," he whispered with more than a little awe. "You fixed Lujjan's leg too. I don't know how…"

Imam added, "It appeared to be a healing touch, perhaps divine. Have you been to Furya again?"

"She just woke up, Abu. Can't you give it a rest?" Came Fry's quick defense from the front of the cutter.

Imam had the grace to look sheepish for a moment, and apologetic right after. "Perhaps later?" He offered.

Jackie raised an eyebrow, feeling more awake now. Carolyn was at the controls looking like she was fully recovered. Lujjan hovered near Abu with a smile ghosting over her face. Riddick stayed, kneeling at her feet, nearly purring under her hands, one of which was still on his cheek while the other was curled over his arm. Of them all, Riddick looked the most shaken by her 'trip.' Maybe she should answer, just for his sake. She looked back at the ex-ranger and smiled, "Um… Yeah. I have been. To Furya, that is."

Imam looked at Riddick with a 'see? I told you' kind of expression, one that Riddick didn't see as his back was to the holy man. "I assured you, Richard, that she was alright," he said softly.

The change was immediate as relief washed over the larger bronze-skinned man. His entire posture softened as the panic fled from him. Trust. He could trust these people. How strange that was? Yet it was true, so very true. Here in this tiny tin can in space, among the impersonal stars, he had found the greatest treasure. Imam had been right. Carolyn had kept the princess off his case and defended him over Jackie's condition. And, most telling of all, she'd returned to him instead of fleeing to that otherworld place of vast forests and orange sunlight; that place called Furya. The place he knew well but denied at every opportunity. The large man grunted, stood, and scooped his mate into his arms. He then sat in her seat and nuzzled her protectively.

Jackie playfully bopped his nose. "Stop worrying." He nuzzled her lightly again and relaxed. Jackie giggled. "How long until we get to New Mecca?" They were no longer in wild space, but on a well used route.

"Six weeks to Helion 5." Carolyn answered.

"Lujjan and Imam can get a transport from there to New Mecca, but we won't be staying in any case." Riddick was firm on that point. "I am guessing that the Company will be right there to pick you up, Captain. Debriefing and all that crap."

Docking pilot, or no, that gave Carolyn Fry reason to pause. Perhaps she could convince the pair to take her with them? Nah, she'd just get in the way. Besides Imam had to have some support among the Company wolves, "Not something I'm looking forward to, really. But I'm going to stick to the truth, Mr. Smyth. No reason to lie, now is there?" Her smile was cunning and yet remarkably sweet. The echo of a smirk on Riddick's face told her that he fully understood her message. Richard B. Riddick was dead. He'd died back there on that planet of Hammerheads, no matter what the 'Golls had believed.

Imam walked back to them, "I can get us safely docked. I can even keep them from questing you. There will be a reward for my return, as the church wants to know if I am alive or dead for insurance purposes. It should be enough to buy you a ship, or refuel this one. Please reconsider."

"It's too dangerous."

"My house is safe, Mr. Riddick." Imam sat down across from them holding the goggled gaze with his own, "Please, for Jackie, reconsider."

Jackie looked up at Riddick. He was thinking this through. She could see the gears turning in his head, "Okay. Long enough to buy a ship, but no longer."

The only other problem was dealing with each other for the next six weeks or so. The cutter had cryosleep systems that were far more advanced than those on the Hunter Grantzer. By using them they could coach the ship into arriving sooner, but no one wanted to be put under. Carolyn hated cryo and as long as they had enough supplies to make it while staying away she was willing to take the extra week in space. Of course, Riddick and Jackie stayed silent on the matter. The cutter was in top shape, and in spite the last experience, neither cared one way or the other. In the end, Iman and Lujjan went under willingly, taking the passenger cryobeds in the back of the cutter. Riddick was saddened by Abu's decision but didn't voice it.

Instead, the three staying awake occupied themselves. Riddick and Fry taught Jack more about piloting. Riddick made the two women partake of his daily exercise regimen. They listened to the news reports and sometimes either Riddick or Jackie would read something aloud from whatever database Jackie hacked into. The cutter's supplies were much better than the stuff they existed on in the skiff, and all three of them were looking much better at the end of five weeks than they had in a long while.

Richard B. Riddick was a man that needed little sleep, even in the worse of times. Oddly enough, he felt better than he had felt in years. Being in the slam was hardly conductive to glowing health, to be sure, but the emergency rations set aside in the cutter were very high quality and combined with the exercise he could feel the recovery he was making right down to his bones. He could see that his companions were doing much better also. Even the two sleepers looked refreshed. What bothered Riddick was that he spent far too much time thinking about the holy man. He missed the clink of the beads as Abu went about his prayers. He missed the man's warm smile. He missed the compassion in the other man's eyes. So late one night, Riddick found himself triggering the controls to wake the sleepers up. He watched with a blank face as the dark skinned man worked toward wakefulness.

Imam rose through the layers of blackness and found himself eye to goggle with his friend. Concern flooded him, "How close are we? Is there a problem?"


	21. Onward to Helion Five

**A/N**: I'm moving into the five year gap between Pitch Black and CoR. I've extended it slightly perhaps... Ziza didn't look 3 to me, so I'm thinking perhaps it was meant to be five years from Dark Fury not Pitch Black. Um... right. I've let Carolyn Fry live. You'll see why, soon.**  
**

**Onward to Helion Five**.

_Imam rose through the layers of blackness and found himself eye to goggle with his friend. Concern flooded him, "How close are we? Is there a problem?"_

Riddick motioned for him to settle down. "We have a week and plenty of fuel. Once we hit planetside everything will change. I just…"

Abu had seen many changes in this man who seemed to silently reach out with a need that he clearly was uncomfortable with. The holy man moved away from the three women who were covertly straightening themselves up with wet-wipes. "There will be much to tempt you back into the ways you know best, I am sure of that if nothing else. But I extended to you, as I do to Jack, that my doors will always be open to you, Richard." The goggled gaze shifted to the holy man's face. It was an unusual feeling, trusting someone after so many years of trusting no one. But for the first time since Jackie had come into his life carrying another name he knew he could trust this one person. Imam put a light hand on Riddick's arm as he sat in the next seat. It was an unspoken token of friendship.

After a time, Lujjan moved up towards them regarding the muscular bronze-skinned man with a careful look. He turned slightly as he sensed her approach. The clear feelings that were building between Abu and this regal woman were as foreign to him as the trust. Riddick knew she wanted him to move. He slightly tightened his face and stood. "Don't touch anything."

The woman gave him a playful laugh, "I promise, Richard. Or should I call you Smyth?" He shrugged at her. She gave him a warm, sisterly smile. "You should be with Jackie."

Jackie watched him move back to her and Carolyn. Then she chewed on her lip and looked at the pair in the front who was leaning towards one another. There was no doubt that they were quickly and crazily falling deeply in love. The same sort of deep intense love that Shazza and Zeke had displayed for each other. There was no being polite about it, either. It seemed that once Abu and Lujjan were together the cutter might as well have been empty. She tore her eyes off them as Riddick's scent came into range of being overwhelming. He hovered next to her, mentally distant for a second. Jackie glanced at him coyly then leaned against his arm and looked up at his face with a wide-eyed puppy look. He shifted his attention down to her and rumbled briefly with laughter. She felt him scoop her up into his lap.

Fry smiled and moved off to the bench where she usually slept. She felt like an extra wheel in many ways yet Jack had reached out to her like she was family. Riddick had accepted that. The previous tension between the three of them had worked itself out leaving them comfortable with each other. She heard Riddick softly state; "You don't have to leave, Carolyn. Come back here." Turning to look at him she raised an eyebrow at his command and noticed that he was holding a hand out to her. She chuckled and moved back over.

Imam glanced away from Lujjan at the sounds of the trio as they melted into sweet laughter. Riddick's was unusually rich and rare, while the tinkling sounds from Jack and Fry counterbalanced it. They were all huddled together now, both women in the larger man's arms, their position decidedly non-sexual. He smiled at them feeling that somehow the three had so acutely connected that nothing could break it. They seemed to have formed a rather close knit family-like unit. Lujjan tugged at his sleeve, whispering, "I have the odd feeling that they are talking about us." All he could do was nod as he looked back at Lujjan. She gave him a hopeful future of his own. He reached over and interlaced his fingers with hers. She turned her attention back to him and seemed to become radiant with happiness. Lujjan had no idea what her father would think or even if he'd be concerned. It didn't matter. This would be her choice not his. She'd told Abu about her past and he seemed not to care. Frankly, Riddick scared her. Even though he had used his skills to help them, even though he had not threatened any of them… Yet if Abu called him a friend, she would trust that he was a friend.

The four of them had 7 days before reaching Helion 5. There was no way the cutter could reach Helion Prime directly. But it really didn't matter too much. Lujjan had no idea that the young woman had been, over 5 months before, passing herself off as a 10-year-old boy. The relationship she saw between the pair was one that assured her that the man's soul had not been lost entirely even though she knew he could be relentlessly brutal. She tried talking with him, but found, as Abu and Fry had that he was not one for talk about his past.

Riddick really had little to say to the regal woman. She was actually far beyond his class in manner, just too different for him to connect with. Unlike Fry he had no reason to even want to share with her. The pilot, Imam and Jackie were enough for him. Riddick did find the Lujjan was perceptive enough to know that his non-committal noises and evasive answers were not meant to anger her. She shifted her attempts to shows of acceptance, figuring that just treating him as a human being would be enough. The ex-ranger could smell her fear and had to give her credit for facing it as directly as possible.

Having failed on the second day to make some form of conversation with the large goggled man, Lujjan spent time with Jackie and Fry on the third day as the women were recovering from their exercises. "So, do either of you have anyone you want to contact when we get to Helion 5?" She asked.

Jackie shook her head, "Nah. Mum's dead. She was my only family. Until I met you guys."

"There's the Company, not that I want to contact them. I suppose that someone will be there by the time we dock though. I've got some family I should contact just to let them know I'm all right, but we're not close. What about you, Lujjan?"

"I will contact my father," Lujjan stated. "I'll tell him what my ex-husband did to me. Aside from that, I, too, am looking to just start over."

"So how come you never join us when we work out?" Jackie asked.

Lujjan looked back at the young woman. A puzzled expression formed on her face, "Would you like me to?" Jackie grinned her best 'devil-may-care' grin and nodded. "Well then, I suppose that tomorrow I shall."

Fry patted the regal lady on the arm and smiled at her. "Smarter than me, that's for sure." She then got to her feet and moved away to her bench.

Lujjan watched the blonde walk away before turning to see Jackie's unusual golden eyes drift towards the front of the ship. She looked also, and smiled at the sight of the two men. "He loves you. You should have seen his face when he realized that you had passed out. It was nearly unbearable. So much emotion locked away inside him, and the only one with the key to it is you."

"I'm sure that his feelings are plenty strong, like the rest of him, Lujjan."

Up at the front Imam and Riddick both looked over the news reports streaming in. Five and a half months… It had been nearly 24 weeks since the crash. They had struggled through so much. Word had reached the outside world that there had been survivors. Surprisingly enough Riddick's face came up with the name Marcus Smyth. It was an older picture showing him with deep brown eyes. He looked exactly the same as he did now with that one exception. Jackie had worked the pictures so that the faces were altered even when the backgrounds were not. ID pictures were seemingly easy for her to forge. Jackie's name had no picture with it. Fry was listed as a possible survivor too.

Lujjan watched Jackie as she studied the men. Finally she sighed. Jackie was a mystery to her as well. The young woman projected a savage strength that made it hard to talk to her. Still, Lujjan owed her life to these people. She had to try to break through to someone besides Imam. "So, Jackie, what would you like to do once we reach Helion 5?"

The golden eyes focused back on the elegant woman sitting quietly with her hands folded in her lap. Jackie thought about it for a moment, "I'd love to have some clothes that actually fit, and a shower. I'm sure Imam and Carolyn would agree with me on that." Jackie was amazed at how much the last 5 months had changed her body. Her hair had just began to lay down on her head, and curl slightly. Her figure while slim and toned was not boyish in the least. Her feet had to have reached adult size before the rest of her but her shoes were getting a little ratty looking. Yes, she sure would love some new clothes. Nothing quite fit right and every day it got a little more annoying. The pants dug in and were really too short. She ditched the undershirt that morning after deciding it was too tight. Nothing she could do really, except wait. At least this ship had a full compliment of water bags and high-energy rations, the good kind that pops used to store away just in case.

The other woman smiled, "We could go shopping…"

"I'd like that, Lujjan. I really would. Let's see how it goes at port, okay?"

"Alright. I too would enjoy spending time looking for clothes."

Jackie nodded. Imam moving back to them cut off the short conversation, "Why don't you go up front Jackie? I think Riddick wants to teach you some more about the controls." She stood and left the couple in the back alone some privacy by pulling the curtain closed. Shortly after the docking pilot moved up front with them. The slightly telling whispers and giggles gave away far more than she wanted to see. She sat in the co-pilot's seat and paid attention to Riddick's lesson for the day with Fry watching carefully over her shoulder. In the back of the tiny shuttle soft noises that sounded rather like rustling clothing, quiet patters of skin on skin, and hushed but intense breathing… well, Jackie just didn't want to focus on it. The distraction made it difficult for a bit until the couple in the back settled down to sleep. Jackie looked over at Riddick with an amazed expression. He looked amused.

"Did I just hear them doing what I think they were doing?" It was a soft whisper that she used to inquire. Riddick sniffed the air and nodded at her question. She looked back at the curtain, "Hell… that didn't take them long did it?" She got up and moved over to him, stopping just out of arm's reach.

Carolyn laughed as she slipped into the chair Jackie had vacated moments before.

He motioned her over to him, "Let them be. It's what they need, Jackie." Her pause made him cock his head, "What, babe?"

"You think they believe we wouldn't know? I mean they were pretty quiet." Riddick shrugged at her and reached for her hand. She caught his up as it came toward her.

The docking pilot gave her a little push and murmured, "Go on, sis."

Jackie curled her fingers over his and stepped in closer with the encouragement and knowledge that Carolyn was fine with what was happening. She leaned in close enough to smell him, crawling into his lap right after was very nearly all instinct. Her mind was caught up in his scent. She was aware of nuzzling his neck and his arms folding around her as she kneeled in the seat with her knees to either side of his thighs. She tingled all over again. His fingers were lightly tracing her spine as he lifted her shirt. She felt his face near her shoulder. Her flesh burned with the need for the touch of his lips against the hollow of her shoulder. She tasted his skin as she worked her hands under his tank, echoing his path. Her clothes were so very uncomfortable, tight and binding. She would have gladly taken them off, even with someone else right there. But Riddick was not going to reveal her to the stars, or share her with another. The courtship was not finished. He slowly took his goggles off and looked at her. He needed to see her with all of his sight. He needed it as much as he needed her touch, her scent, the music of her voice, and the taste of her skin. She sensed the change in him as he studied her with his goggles off. She raised her head and looked at him. He had a glow about him that she had never noticed before. It was a faint pinkish tinged aura of light. She blinked and sat back on her heels, mesmerized by the new experience. She tried to feel the energy she was seeing by raising her hand to trace its three dimensional edges. What was this new thing? She noticed that it seemed at the moment to only be him that she saw it field around.

Riddick was too engrossed in his own study of her to notice the puzzled shift in Jackie's manner. Truth was the pinkish tinged light was something he was well familiar with. Looking at Jackie though, he had a different sensation. Slowly, very slowly, he was seeing the color of her skin, the shade of her lips, the golden tawny sweep of her hair, and the brownish gray of her shirt. He would have thought that it was his mind playing tricks on him but for the bluish tone of the seat and the blonde hair topping blue eyed gaze set into a blushing peaches and cream face behind her. This was new. Had she fixed his eyes when she healed his arm? The purple and pink tones were still there, but the color vision he thought he'd lost forever at Slam City seemed to be coming back. Or was he just being hopeful? He blinked and the color was much faded. Jackie was reaching one hand over his head not quite touching him. He reached up and took her hand in his. She blinked. The pinkish light was no longer there. Riddick kissed her fingers and shifted her so that she was sitting. Jackie sighed before snuggling into him. Carolyn caught their eyes and wordlessly indicated that she would watch the controls. Riddick smirked at her and closed his quicksilver eyes. Whatever it was that had happened quickly fled from their minds as they dozed off in the chair.

The bronze-skinned man woke before the woman in his lap did. He looked at the controls. Everything was still on target. Carolyn touched his arm and offered him food. He shook his head and gave her a warmer smile. The couple in the back was sleeping soundly. The other woman settled back into the co-pilot's seat. He ran his hand through Jackie's hair. What would he do if something happened to her? How would he cope? Why had he let his darkness open up such a huge hole in the armor? She stirred slightly under his touch so that her face was snuggled into his shoulder. Need. That was why. He needed her. Admitting the beast inside was right hurt. But the simple fact was that he had always needed her. From the moment he first lifted her crying, frightened being out of the pile of bloody rocks and battered flesh, he had needed her. The pain of his loss over the years he'd been running flooded him. He let it simmer. The pain hardened into anger again. Johastein would pay. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually… he would pay.

Jackie was only aware of his warmth, his smell, and the strength of his heartbeat. Even though she did not know of his pain the healer inside her tried to ease it. Jackie's dreams were disjointed flashes of images. Shots of horror and agony. The feeling of cold blackness, nothingness, yet being aware was the one that kept coming back to her. But the sensation was more than just fear. There was a yearning there, something that highlighted the nothingness. It was a feeling of being totally alone, shut off from everything, so completely that it hurt. Intermingled with the blackness were flashes of trees. Trees that Jackie knew. Trees under an orange sun, with patchy plumes of scattered smoke revealing where fires still burned. But the angle she was getting the images from was different than she'd ever seen them before. The entire thing was from the air. It was as if it was retreating away… everything that had ever been safe, everything that he'd ever known snapshot by snapshot getting farther away. It left her feeling confused. She woke with a groan and shook her head. "Must've fallen asleep…"

"Um." She felt his lips in her hair. The chrono showed them a day closer. The space in front of them was filling with the most brilliantly colored nebula Jackie had ever seen. She pointed at it. "Pretty?" He asked.

"Never seen anything like it before, actually. Why is it glowing?"

"Asking the wrong person, Jack." He looked over his course again and drew her attention to the readings. "All I know is that it's fucking bright. Too bright." Jackie looked from the various readings that usually were at zero that currently danced up and down to his face. She smiled at him and ran a hand over his cheek. "We gotta find someplace darker," he continued.

"Yeah, but it is pretty." In reality, the approach to Helion was one of the most beautiful things Jackie had ever seen. Not only did it mean that they were finally gonna be able to regroup, but that Imam at least was safe. And then there was the sheer beauty of the nebula glowing around the system. She could tell Riddick was less than happy to be here, but having given his word, he'd stick to it.

"If you say so, babe." He felt Jackie hit his arm. The impact caused him to pause and consider her training. It actually stung enough for him to rub his shoulder. "What was that for?"

"You're being… mushy."

Riddick lifted his goggles and looked at her. Truth of the matter was, until they had some space there was little about fighting he could teach her. "Aw, come on Jackie. You want me to be hard on you? Should I spank you now or later?" He watched her raise an eyebrow. Then in a matter of seconds they were struggling with each other as they both attempted to tickle and blocked fingers going for ticklish ribs. It was a match the Riddick was rather determined to win only Jackie was far more dexterous than he'd realized. He had trouble keeping a grip on her while blocking her hands. There were other things that he could target. Jackie's fingers elicited a few grunts, some twitching, and a grin.

The couple in the back woke to the sounds a squealing laughter… Jackie's laughter. Riddick finally gave up trying to stop her and went for the ticklish spot himself… her foot. There was the sound of Jackie lightly landing on the floor as her second shoe hit with a thud. Lujjan looked as Imam and gathered her clothes. Imam seemed rather surprised at the noise himself. The young woman let out a few gasping breaths before Riddick asked her, "Had enough?" The pause was enough for Lujjan to begin dressing. Jackie curled herself back up to look at him and stuck out her tongue. Riddick narrowed his eyes at her and the squeals started up again. It went on for some time, and Imam caught Lujjan by the hand and pulled her back to the bench that they'd slept on. He shook his head at her. It was best not to interrupt. Clearly it was something the couple playing needed or they wouldn't be doing it. Finally it went quiet but for the lingering snickers that the docking pilot was attempting to muffle. Imam stood and pulled his clothing on. There were worse things to wake to, he reflected. Lujjan peaked out the curtain to find the other couple acting like nothing had happened, except for the fact that Jackie's shoes were tossed into the walkway.

Her entrance into the front of the shuttle produced a smile on Jackie's face, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." The young woman's toes wiggled as she bounced her feet. "It's just that he's so dour…" Lujjan couldn't help but to smile. She had no doubt that anyone else trying what Jackie had pulled would have gotten his or her hands broken. She glanced from one to the other as she got rations out and silently offered them. "Thanks," Jackie responded as she elbowed Riddick for his grumble of acceptance.

"Thanks," he echoed.

Her offer to Fry was countered with her being shown an empty wrapper and a "Thanks anyhow. I'll be sleeping now, since everyone else has already."

She glanced back at Abu who looked rather amused at Jackie's actually getting the big man to be somewhat polite. He also accepted breakfast but did so by kissing her on the cheek. Lujjan blushed slightly, "You are all welcome." They sat in silence for a time before Riddick and Jackie got up to go to the back themselves, but hot to sleep.

"Nope, Captain. Exercise first, then sleep." Riddick pulled Fry off her bench and over to where Jackie was already getting ready.

Jackie turned to Lujjan. "Come on Princess. You promised that you would join us." The back was spacious enough for them to exercise together if not train for fighting.

Lujjan stood and moved back to the others. The holy man watched as they limbered up. "Abu, what will your family think?"

"They will find you as enchanting as I do, Lujjan. Do not worry." Surprisingly enough, it was the willingness to workout with the trio that got Lujjan an 'in' into the group. It seemed as though the physical movements and sweat formed some type of special bond that could be earned no other way. She found that she looked forward to each day that followed.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The next two days the nebula grew to fill the screen. Jackie spent much of her time staring at it, mesmerized by the colors and shapes inside the glowing cloud of radiant space dust. The third day they entered the cloud on their approach to Helion 5. Carolyn and Imam went over the entire tale of what happened with Lujjan, making sure that she knew who Smyth was suppose to be and that Riddick was not the person she was with. Lujjan promised that she would refer to the man who rescued her off the Kubla Kahn as Mr. Smyth.

As they got closer and closer to the point of orbit Imam suggested hiding the goggles behind a fake blindfold. He even offered some of his own clothing for it. Riddick preferred the use of Jackie's discarded undershirt. "I am going to tell them that your eyes were injured in the crash, Richard. Or, Mr. Smyth," he said as Jackie carefully folded the cloth in such a way as to let Riddick see through it behind the goggles. "Jackie, stay with him." He then moved toward the co-pilot seat where Fry was already waiting for Helion 5 to contact them.

"Welcome to Helion 5. One Light Token is required to dock." A pleasant voice informed them over the comms.

"This is Imam Abu al-Walid, please accept one token from my account on this ship's behalf."

"One Light Token accepted, Mr. al-Walid. Thank you. You are cleared to land."

"Well, that was easy." Lujjan smiled.

They were met by the standard docking personal. The assumption was that the ship was a private one under Imam's ownership and so nothing was made of it. They were allowed to pay the docking fees and exit. Fry looked surprised but kept her mouth shut. Because none of them had any luggage the made a swift exit from the port. Riddick kept his hand on Jackie's shoulder and played blind. Reaching the curb, Imam hailed a transport to a nearby hotel. The hotel set them up with three adjoining rooms. Once inside Riddick closed the blinds in their assigned room and begin a painstaking search. He then moved over to Carolyn's room and finally to Abu's and Lujjan's. There was nothing to find, but he made no excuses.

Jackie watched him for a time before stripping off her clothes and walking into the bathroom to take a shower. There could have been nothing finer that letting the water wash over her. Well, the lathering and rinsing felt pretty damn good too. She walked back out in a towel. Riddick was watching the local news drift by. There was not much of major interest really. He stood up and went in and took a shower himself. He came back out to find Jackie dressed in a tourist type sundress with a tee-shirt underneath. She was slipping into a pair of cheap sandals. On the bed were a pair of loose drawstring pants and a tank, clearly for him. He recognized them from the gift shop downstairs.

"Imam?" He inquired. Jackie nodded. Riddick picked the pants up and looked at them. At least they were dark in color. On one leg near the edge seam was a tiny patch that held the hotel logo. He'd worn worse. The tank, like Jackie's sundress, had a "I've been to the edge!" slogan on it. Of course the meaning was for the nebula but both he and Jackie could place it in a different context. He was glad for the clean clothes, regardless of what they sold. He dressed. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door that divided their room from Imam's.

"Mr. Smyth, Miss Badd… Abu ordered food. Carolyn is already here. Would you like to join us?" It was Lujjan. Jackie looked at the goggled man. He could tell the idea of real food after so long on rations was appealing to her. For a moment he hesitated, then he thought better of the situation and gave her a nod. Imam was relieved when they came into the room. Riddick had stated that everything would change and now the holy man nearly felt he like he was clinging onto the vestiges of someone who was fading away right before his eyes. It was as if mentally Richard had already gone leaving a stranger in his place. Lujjan could tell that the evening was somewhat bittersweet for him. She decided that there was little that she could do until the others left. The conversation was rather non-existent while they ate, but at the meal's conclusion Abu got up and came back to the table with wine and glasses.

"I think that we have much to be grateful for. Our safe arrival here is nothing short of wondrous. I owe you my life," he turned to Riddick, "and a debt that I cannot fully repay. However, I extend hospitality to you and those who share your life until the end of my days." He then poured the wine and passed the glasses around. The offer made Riddick uncomfortable. He frowned and looked at Jackie. Jackie gave him an 'its all right' expression and a slightly sad smile.

"Thank you, Imam. I hope I never need to press you for it in a dire situation." He took his glass and looked at the expensive liquid.

"And you, Jackie, have grown so much since I first saw you on Conga. I can only wish you happiness. Of course my home will always be open to you."

Jackie smiled at the dark skinned man, "Thanks, Father. It's nice to know that I will always have someplace safe to come back to."

"And finally, Carolyn. You began this journey as a member of a crew and ended it as a leader. You fought your demons and won. I am honored to call you a friend and should you ever have need of me, just ask."

The blonde looked shocked for a second, "Abu, your faith, Jack's spirit, and _Smyth's_ skill are what pulled us through. I was just lucky enough to hang on for the ride. I'm glad it's over, but I'll never forget the debt I owe you three." She looked at the floor; "I'm going to miss you."

"Come to New Mecca. There's no reason to leave yet. Perhaps I can help you find freedom from the Company," Imam said.

"I'd like that. Thank you." Fry leaned over and hugged the dark skinned man.

Lujjan waited until the wine was gone and the two men moved off to the computer station to look over the ships for sale before sitting down next to Jackie and Carolyn. "We looked into flights to Helion Prime. The nearest one is several days off, unless we take a cheap flight. Abu was set against it, and hearing about what happened to you I understand why. So, we can go shopping tomorrow."

"I should get some UD's wired in. Let me do that real quick." Jackie walked back into her and Riddick's room and wired money from Smyth's account to the desk downstairs. Minutes later she got a confirmation call. Having put herself on the account because of Smyth's 'blindness' she verbally Okayed the wire before walking back into the other room. "Okay, I'm good to go for tomorrow, Lujjan."


	22. Company Arrives

**A/N**: Here's another chapter... Hope you enjoy!**  
**

**Company Arrives**.

The three women spent quite a while talking about where to go shopping the next day, looking through the ads that scrolled over one of the news feeds on the vidscreen. Jackie had never been shopping before and was looking forward to the experience. Carolyn was quiet but willing to go along with the other two even if she had little funds to waste on new clothes. It had been a long time since she had any frivolous funds, thanks to the company's ideas about repayment for licensing among other things. Still, she remembered how much she enjoyed going on shopping trips with her ex-lovers even if she had little money to spend so this trip should be fun so long as they avoided getting into trouble.

Meanwhile, the men were looking on the computer station where the system's news text-reels were displaying. The classifieds were their main focus, as Riddick wanted to find a ship as quickly as possible. Ad after ad scrolled by as the two of them scanned for something designed for longer-range travel. Most of the ships they were reading about had all the promise of, well frankly, shit, as far as Riddick was concerned. The locals here seemed to be focused on short-range, flashy, two-seaters with fuel cells that barely put off enough thrust to clear the nebula. He was attempting to avoid grinding his teeth together in annoyance. It wasn't until Imam switched over to the Helion Prime news feeds that ships meant for system-to system travel began to display. Riddick forced himself to relax. The implications were that most of the interstellar commerce traveled through the prime planet in the system. Imam looked over at him as he let out a slow, controlled, breath through his nose. There were more ads, but none for Helion Five. They heard Jack yawn rather loudly from the region of the bed, "Hey, Imam. Maybe we should settle in for the night?"

Abu looked at the women who were all showing signs of needing sleep; "Yes that would be advisable. Perhaps tomorrow we can continue with this while you three purchase some clothing and luggage for all of us. I'll sign a draft for you, Lujjan. And you, too, Carolyn."

"Oh, no, Imam. I couldn't possibly take your money --" Fry started to protest.

"Nonsense. You are family to me, after what we have been through together." Fry at least had the tact to look sheepish at the tone Imam was using. "Go on, get some rest." She smiled and hugged him before leaving the room.

"Thank you," she whispered. The holy man hugged her back and smiled at her.

"Well, then. Good Night, Abu. Lujjan," Riddick said as he drew Jackie back into their room and closed the joining door.

Jackie's face split into a jaw-cracking yawn as she moved toward the bed. Silence followed her for a long moment. Puzzled she turned to look back at the large man still standing by the door. She raised an eyebrow, "Riddick? Somethin' wrong?"

"Um, yeah, Jack. We have to set ground rules." He looked uncomfortable.

She still looked puzzled, "Okay. I've got no problems following your rules. Let me hear 'um." She sat on the edge of the bed and waited.

He slowly moved across the room, nerves sparking in tension that only he seemed to feel. Why was this so hard? It was not like he hadn't taught others to fight before. Of course, this was slightly different. None of the others he'd taught had wormed their way so far under his armor. He cleared his throat and stood in front of the young woman with her golden gaze. Better to just plunge into this, perhaps, "You are going to have to learn how to defend yourself. I'll teach you but promise me that you won't go behind my back." He towered over her with all seriousness.

His first words made her feel a wild joy. He was offering to teach her what he knew about fighting. That was good, right? Then his buried fear that she would betray him sank in. The joy fizzled into white-hot rage. "What? Do you think that I'd betray you?" Jackie found herself suddenly on her feet, her face in his, anger pumping through her blood. "I'd give my fucking life for you. I've killed for you! How dare you even think that I'd turn. How dare you!" At some point her fists began to move on their own, striking out with strength she didn't realize she had.

Her fire took him by surprise. Her attack startled him. He put his hands up to block the blows, "Woah, Jackie! Just a second… Jackie! Fucking stop, right now." He caught her arms up, "Stop. Listen to me. I have to be sure you're with me on this. I have to know whose side you're on. Okay? Take it easy."

"Take it easy? Fuck you! What do I have to do to make you believe me? Defending your ass wasn't enough? What the fuck do you want from me?" She tried to kick at him with her nearly bare feet and succeeded in hitting him on the shin with one of the soft sandals. He was getting the impression now that he'd really pissed her off. It hadn't been his intention. He lifted her off her feet and threw her down onto the bed.

He watched her bounce, the other flip-flop hanging off the toes of her off foot. The dress she wore hid little as it molded itself to her figure. Part of him wanted to become distracted by the lines of her legs, the curves of her hips, and the rage tinged softness of her lips. He pushed it aside, "Maybe I should leave you here."

The words stunned her like a slap across the face. She deflated, the color draining from her like she'd seen a ghost. "But you promised, Riddick. You said you wouldn't."

"Shit changes, Jackie. You are acting like a brat. I don't want a brat. I want the woman I thought you were becoming." He watched her face become hard. "Now are you going to listen to me?" Jackie was hurt that he'd even think it was possible for her to betray him. She was angered and stunned that he'd go back on his word. But he seemed to offer her another chance. She nodded. "Fine. Don't cross me. I will hurt you if you do. There's a limit to how much I'll put up with. Do what I ask you to do, understand? If I tell you to do something there's gonna be a damn good reason for it, and I might not have time to tell you what it is." She nodded again. "And I'm only going to tell you this once. So you better be listening." He leaned in over her and planted his hands to either side of her; meeting her golden eyes with his shimmering silver orbs as the bed shifted and the goggles came off. Jackie shook from the intense look in his eyes, not knowing what it was that she was seeing, only that it was a strong, powerful, emotion. "You are very special, Jack. I don't deserve you." Her eyes filled with tears and her lip quivered. He slid his hands onto her arms and took her hands, "But I need you, babe."

It was as close at he could get to admitting that she was his weak spot, as close as he'd ever get to stating that Chillingsworth was right, and perhaps as close as he'd come to saying that he loved her. Jackie searched his eyes. "I -- " she started and stopped. There were no words that fit how she felt. Nothing seemed to match. The swirl of emotions rose in her soul, anger, fear, desire, and something deeper, older than time itself. He was holding her hands, staring into the depth of her being. How could he not see that she felt so much more than simple need? Why, suddenly, did this become difficult? Frustration built up as the seconds passed with him waiting patiently for her to continue.

She kissed him. Fuck words. She'd show him how she felt. Sensation exploded between them as their mouths met. Passion fueled by his need of her seemed to pale as she sought to make him understand the feelings she had no name for. But for all the emotion invested in the kiss there were no tongues involved. Instead the connection forged in that instant transcended mere physical contact. The touch of their lips led to him letting go of her hands but not her. Then the kiss ended and Jackie was aware of the link between them stretching not breaking. His scent surrounded her. She felt like she was floating. Then she realized that he was holding her tightly with a gentleness she was unaware he was capable of. She'd never hand him hug her like this before, lifting her off the bed slightly and enveloping her in his strength softened by his emotions. She curled her arms around his neck. "I'll never leave you, never. I couldn't even if you pushed me away. I'd follow you, to the ends of the universe, Riddick," she whispered into his neck as the tears began to fall. "Don't make this harder than it already is."

He slowly settled them both down on the bed and still holding her he drifted off to sleep. Jackie stayed there, curled against him, awake but crying, for much longer than she slept. The gulf between them was made of his holding back. There was nothing she could do to force it closed. She could see the chasm in her mind as clearly as she could see his eyes in the darkness. It hurt so badly. She was so close to understanding him, and yet so far away. What was he waiting for? It had to be painful for him too. She leaned back and traced her fingers over his face. There were so many questions in her head all relating to how he was acting. She tried to force her tears back as she followed the line of his brow with her fingers. What would she do if he did leave her here? Would she crumple under the grief? Would she let him go? Could she? She knew it would kill her, to just stay here. She'd have to try to follow him. Her fingers moved over his cheekbone and back to his ear. It was so confusing. How could he be sleeping with the way she felt right now? It was as if her heart had been torn out, squeezed dry, and put back in. Finally she tucked herself back into his embrace and closed her eyes.

She must have finally fallen asleep. "Get up, Jackie." Riddick woke her on a military schedule. Before breakfast they exercised and he began teaching her how to fight. He quickly went over the basics of using an opponent's mass and force against them. Something was tickling his senses in the way that spoke of a lack of time. Even here they were not safe. He showed her the required moves, allowing her to feel out his weak spots for a few moments. "Ready?" he asked her. Jackie just nodded as she centered herself for what she figured was going to be a beating. True to form, his lesson was harsh. The trick she noticed was to be always ready to bend, to roll before being thrown, to make herself small against his onslaught. That worked for a while. Then he changed his tactic and she was forced to exploit the weak areas to make him go down. It was more risky because when she misjudged he managed to knock the wind out of her. "Get up," his manner was just as brisk as the first day he made her do pull-ups. "Keep moving. Never let the enemy know you are hurting."

She nodded as she caught her breath as covertly as possible. They circled and she mentally prepared again for his movement forward. She sent him tumbling a couple of times before he caught her making an error. This time he jarred her to the floor with a blow that could have killed her. Although the fear rose in her being she forced it back and down. 'Fuck you… I've made my choice and you can't chase me off that easy!' she picked herself up off the floor yet again, fully aware of the bruise the landing created on her tailbone. She tightened her jaw and resumed her position. "Good --" his voice rumbled in approval. He knew he was provoking her darkness… making it rise up and target him. It was a dangerous game but one that had to be played. He needed to know if her animal side could be tapped into and molded into a useful form. Jackie learned fast… faster than he thought possible. Finally he told her, "Hit the shower. I'll have breakfast waiting."

Jackie gratefully let him give her an one-armed hug and graced him with a warm, if tired, smile before heading to the bathroom. A shower sounded perfect. She wasted little time stripping and climbing into the spray of warm water. Although she couldn't feel them yet the bruises from his knocking her to the floor several times to illustrate what she was doing wrong were already beginning to color. She'd be sore later. For now, she ignored them and swiftly washed, rinsed and redressed. Jackie walked out, "All done. You want to shower before we eat?" Riddick nodded. He heard Jackie answer the door and take the food from room service while he was in the bathroom. Something about it set off alarms.

He emerged to inspect the tray. There was nothing wrong with the food, so he chalked up his nerves to the delivery boy. "Jack, I want you to be careful. Buy stuff that is tough and functional. Don't bother with skirts and heels. And try to find me a pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses." He handed her a plate of food.

"Boots, pants, tops, underwear?" She asked as she took the offered lean breakfast.

He nodded and started to eat. After a moment he added, "Backpack or duffel. Something roomy but easy to squeeze down small when empty. Maybe some knives? But no guns, got it?"

Jackie started, "Why no guns? Can they be tracked or something?"

"Um, yeah. They can be. There are ways to figure out all kinds of things from a bullet wound."

"It is not like we're going on a killing spree, is it?" She was looking at him with a piece of toast poised halfway to her mouth. He raised his gaze to hers, smiled wickedly, and shook his head. "That's a relief. I need to look at your old boots and pants for size." They finished with the food, all the while both thinking about how nice it was going to be to have new clothes. Riddick was relishing the fact that the duds wouldn't be prison issue for once.

"Hey, on the pants, look for something nice and sturdy. Built to last a while, you know. With pockets," he gave her a kind of pleading expression. He really wanted something with cargo pockets, like the pair of pants she'd been wearing before Johns buried her in mud. "I'd like black."

She laughed. "I know. I noticed a surplus supply store was having a sale," She was digging under the bed for his old boots at the moment. "I was thinking that they might have some really good deals on military grade boots and pants. If all I can find is green then I'll have to dye them later." Her head came up over the edge of the bed and she smiled at him. Within moments she had the information she needed.

The knock at the door prompted him to say, "Go have fun, Jack."

She kissed his cheek, "I'll try." Then she bounced out the door and down the hall with Lujjan and Carolyn. He watched until she reached the elevator before closing the door and knocking on the connecting passage to Imam's room. The pair of them settled down to business. The agenda for the day consisted of checking the remaining news feeds. Riddick still had no intention of going to Helion Prime if he could help it, but they had no luck finding a ship on Helion 5. There were too many options on Helion Prime to count however. It took hours to even start narrowing down the choices.

Riddick was rubbing his face with his hands when the vidphone rang. He moved away from the line of sight before Imam answered it. Someone from the Company was on the other end. The sandy haired individual began a conversation with the holy man that Riddick tuned out off rather on purpose. He noticed it was nearly noon. Imam finished the call and turned to his friend, "I am being asked to return to the spaceport. The Company is asking questions about the cutter."

"Tell them the truth about the _Kubla Kahn_. Jack hacked the database to reflect that we were captured and held illegally. The cutter is from there, and we 'borrowed' it to escape from Chillingsworth's idea of a good time. Tell them about the illegal gladiatorial pit."

"The truth us likely the best way. Of course if the records on Chillingsworth's ship show that they picked up Marcus Smyth so much the better for you," Imam replied thoughtfully.

Riddick nodded, "Don't worry about that, Jack took care of it. Riddick never survived the crash."

Imam nodded and left. Riddick shut off the computer in the holy man's room and returned to his own. Time began to crawl by. He couldn't rest. The feelings of agitation swirled through him as he fought the urge to scope out the hotel. He finally turned on the vidscreen and watched the news. Everything seemed fine but his nerves until the channel made an odd jerk in the middle of a story. He narrowed his eyes before moving to the window. Perching himself there he begin to go over plans for escape as he waited for Jack to return, his ears telling him that there was something wrong with the news feed as he listened to yesterday's broadcast replay. He hoped she came back soon. He hoped she came back. Butterflies built up in his chest with each minute that passed.

Riddick was prepared for everything to fall apart by the time the three women came back. Surprisingly enough neither Jackie or Fry were overly at ease themselves. They stopped in the hallway talking softly together before Jackie came into the room with a few bags. She tossed them down on the bed and began ripping tags off before stuffing things into a duffel bag. He looked away from the window where he was watching the parking lot. "How was your shopping trip?"

"It was fun, mostly. I got you some pants, new boots, several shirts, socks, and undies. Mostly black or dark brown. Thought you might like something besides a wife beater. Three-quarter sleeves okay?"

"Um. Yeah. Fine," his attention was focused on the lot outside. The news-feeds had cut off about a quarter hour ago before looping. He'd been watching the comings and goings ever since. The computer may have gone down too for all he knew. He sensed Jack double-checking her cash and making sure the purchases were secure. "I hope you got yourself some sensible clothes too." He paused, listening to her discomfort, "Problem, Jack?"

"I spotted a familiar face, Riddick…" He looked over at her and noticed how intensely she was watching him. He waited soundlessly for her to continue. "Mine." He reached toward her and captured her hand. She squeezed his slightly then spilled the rest of it; "Johastein is trying to say I was kidnapped. He's offering a reward." Riddick grunted and drew her into his arms. He made her look down at the parking area where some very nicely dressed men in dark suits were heading to the entrance. She shivered. "Are they Company?" They had to be, which meant someone had tipped Johanstein off. Her heart began to beat faster with the approaching danger. Only on a border world like this could the company sometimes get away with shit they wouldn't try closer to authority. Riddick tightened his grip on her for a moment as he watched the suits disappear through the door.

"Likely. Had a feeling things were too quiet."

Jackie raised an eyebrow, "So, what are we going to do?"

He let go of her. They had to move and move now. "We're not taking that flight to Helion Prime. And we're not staying here." He silently stalked over to the door and put his hand against it. "Go out onto the ledge, Jack." A plan quickly formed and he grabbed a chair to wedge under the doorknob to buy them extra time. "Do it right now. Don't make me waste time here." He moved over and swept the tags off onto the floor and spread the comforter back out before busting out the light bulbs around the room. He listened to Jack as she changed shoes.

She stood for a second and stared at him. They were tens of floors up. A fall from this height would likely kill her. She kicked off the sandals and put her new boots on. She stuffed the shoes in the bag. The screen was already off the window and nowhere in sight. The knock at the door sent her out onto the ledge. It was not overly narrow at the point where the window was. Another knock and Riddick joined her. He pointed for her to walk the length of the balcony. Jackie wasn't sure what to be more scared of, the fall potential, the folks at the door, or the look on Riddick's face. All in all, with the threat he'd made the night before, she figured it would be a good time to just do what he was telling her. They rounded a corner and found themselves at a drainpipe. It blocked the ledge but provided a way up or down. Riddick pointed up. Jackie climbed with the duffel bag slung across one shoulder and her body like a shoulder pack.

Behind them, around the corner, the manager was being forced to open the door to their room. The lock came open easy enough but the chair meant that the suits had to bust the door off the frame to get into the darkened room. The switch on the wall didn't lighten up the situation either. Aside from the clutter around the bed, the ripped undershirt in the trash, the faint crackle of thin glass underfoot in the carpet, and news being on there was no sign that anyone was in the room. The manager slipped away as soon as he could, not comfortable with the manner that the neatly dressed men displayed as they tore apart the room looking for clues as to where the young woman they were after had gone. It didn't take long for them to find the window screen under the bed.

Riddick heard the crackle as the men looking for Jackie opened the window and set off his booby trap. The electronics setup for the news had been rigged to short when the window was opened. The juice flowing through the metal frame was enough to seriously injure many adult men. Riddick figured that if he hurt half of them then Jackie's chances of making off Helion Five would be pretty good. He grinned at the sounds of agony drifting in the evening breeze. Smelled like a good-sized barbecue going on below them. Constantly scanning with his eyes, about 3 floors above theirs he spotted an open window. He silently directed Jackie to it. He was quite proud of how quickly she climbed.

She pushed the screen in and slipped into the room. The lights were off. Various items from the gift shop were scattered about. Riddick came in behind her. "Don't linger." He moved over to the door and peered out. The hallway was empty. The elevators all blinked "out of order". They would have to take the stairs. He turned back to Jackie. She moved up to him and took his hand. "Change out of that stupid dress." She pulled back with a frown. His manner told her not to argue with him. She pulled the dress off and put on pants. Riddick snatched the bag, pulled the sandals out and tossed them aside. He changed into the new pants, tank, and boots she'd bought him before tossing the bag back at her. "Keep the pocket 'puter on you at all times. Can you hack into the fire alarm?"

"Yeah… but-?"

"Do it on a 30 second delay."

She nodded and linked the pocket computer into the hotel's network. Riddick stayed by the door, waiting and watching. Her nimble fingers made short work of finding the correct system. She triggered a cascading alarm failure, setting it to reach critical and begin blaring in 30 seconds. "Okay." Riddick got them into the hall and starting down the stairwell before the alarm went. After another minute people begin to flood the stairs all heading down and out. All they had to do was go with the massive flow of people. Of course things were never as easy as they would have wanted them to be, but the evacuation the false alarm triggered was perfect cover for them getting into the lobby, past the company suits at the door and out into the road beyond. "What about Fry, Imam and Lujjan?" Jackie asked as Riddick pulled her into a darkened side street.

"There's no time. You want to stay away from Johnastein?" Jackie nodded. "Then we'll call them when it's safe." Riddick took her hand and begun leading her further into the gathering darkness, his single goal to put plenty of night between them and the flashing lights of the emergency responders. He went low; searching for pathways that would get them off planet quickly. They wandered the night, moving silently through the back alleys as they circled back to where there were ships to be had.

Near dawn Jack noticed that they had reached the spaceport field by way of the low-cost housing district built behind it. She tugged at him, "Maybe it's not so safe to sneak in with the day coming on, Riddick." He nodded and looked for a place to wait. They ended up in an apartment building basement.

"Stay here. I'll go get some food. You got some money?" Jack smirked at him and passed him a stack of UD's. "Good girl." He kissed her forehead before slipping back out of the building the way he'd gotten them in, through a basement window. She settled down and set her mind to watching the daylight crawl across the floor changing angles as it went. Riddick wasn't gone long as they had seen some quick serve shops as they stealthily crept through the city. She heard him call, "Hey, Jacket, you there?" She moved into sight of where he was crouched. "Catch." He dropped bags of food down to her before slipping back into the basement.

"Um. Real food. Thanks." He chucked at her playful peck on the cheek. They ate in peaceful silence. "Jacket, huh?" He gave her an amused expression and bopped a finger on her nose before letting her settle down into his arms. They passed the day tucked into a darkened corner in a forgotten basement of a rundown housing project. Jack hoped that Imam and Fry were okay.

Riddick seemed to spend the time meditating, but there was no way that Jack could relax enough to follow suit. Finally as night fell, Riddick looked at her, "Babe, want me to call them?" She chewed on her lip and slowly nodded. He brushed his hand over her cheek, "Alright. I'll give them a call from the corner booth. I want to get us some water and perhaps more food. You stay here. I won't be gone long." She nodded. He kissed her forehead again before slipping back out into the night.

Truth be known, there was no way he'd risk staying here any longer than he had to. The news had splashed headlines with a picture of 'Audrey Johanstein' and an artificially aged image that was really quite close to his Jack starting with the late edition. Then the early morning broadcast had a blurry image of Jack from one of the shops. Luckily neither Lujjan nor Carolyn had been with her at the time. He really hated this. Getting back to the shops and buying water and some high calorie snacks was easy enough. Then he called the hotel and got Imam's room on the vidphone. "Mr. Smyth, how nice to see you. How is your nurse working out?" Lujjan answered the call and Abu quickly fluttered in behind her with a worried expression.

"She's fine. Better than fine, really. A great teacher. Worried about you though. How is Fry?" He answered.

"The Company called her back to the spaceport this morning for debriefing. She has not returned. I gave her a ticket to Helion Prime and told her to plead mental exhaustion due to her trials. Look me up when you can, Mr. Smyth," Imam spoke from over Lujjan's shoulder.

Riddick's face tightened at the news about Carolyn. "It's not safe here. I'll contact you again from home. Have a safe trip," with that he cut the connection. He then returned to Jack and they made their way back to the spaceport. He got them through a fence and into the outer field with surprising ease. They scurried through the tall grass until reaching the smaller hangers where the owners of private skiffs rented space. He settled Jackie down near one of the hangers and she put her back against a barrel and waited for what seemed like forever. Just when she'd given up hope that he'd come back he appeared out of the darkness. "Come on. I found a cutter that should make it to New Mecca."

"I thought you didn't want to go there, why change your mind?" Jackie got to her feet.

"We need a long range ship. There are several for sale on Helion Prime. We go where the ships are." He took her hand, "Besides those suits won't have any authority so close to the system capital. You'll be safe there."


	23. Helion Prime

Helion Prime 

After the call from Mr. Smyth, Imam and Lujjan took the next flight to New Mecca. They decided that it was time to be away from Helion 5 and rushed to the spaceport with haste, although they both felt hollow at leaving behind the three that various Company plots had snatched away. Lujjan could tell that the split, in more ways then she knew, shook Abu. All she could do was offer silent support and make sure he knew that he wasn't alone. During the flight Imam turned again to his prayer beads for comfort. This habit continued once they reached his abode in the New Mecca quarter. When he wasn't working for the church or his job in the capital the beads were in his hands. Lujjan picked up the threads of Abu's life and tried to mend the torn fabric wrought from his ordeal with tender support and unbounded love. No one was going to tear her from the man she loved.

The day after they arrived at Imam's New Mecca home the coms beeped. Carolyn Fry called and asked if she was still welcome. While Imam was away at work, Lujjan made it clear that she'd been informed that the docking pilot was family. Carolyn only heard that she should come home right away and was more than happy to comply. The Company released her on medical leave but took most of her medical pay to cover the interest on her debts. Without Abu's offer to put a roof over her head Carolyn would have ended up in the streets. Within a week she was living in one of the holy man's guestrooms and helping around the house while Imam attempted to find her another job away from the Company. His many contacts would serve him well in this endeavor, eventually landing Carolyn a good job in the private sector.

Jackie and Riddick had more difficulty making it to New Mecca. Although they made it to Helion Prime about the same time Imam and Lujjan had they didn't dare risk calling. The reason for that of course was that they had arrived on a stolen ship and crashed it. Certain agencies were looking for that ship, and Riddick had no intention of leaving behind any trails to connect it with his friend. They slowly made their winding way across the planet, sleeping in basements and atop buildings where they wouldn't be seen. Jack had taken to wearing a cap again and had added sunglasses. She also wore a fake lip ring so that she didn't look so much like the images of 'Audrey Johastein' that were still cropping up. Riddick's goggles were carefully shed in favor of very dark wrap around shades.

It took them nearly a month of foot travel to reach Imam's home due to the tortuous, twisted path that Riddick took in getting them there. The reunion was quietly happy. For a brief time at least the entire 'family' was home. Abu set the pair up in their own guestroom, but Riddick spent most of his time on the nearby rooftops or checking out ships. Jack used lemon juice and sunlight to lighten her hair and took to wearing the local clothing styles. The work around the house was tackled with glee, Jack assisted Lujjan with anything and everything that the other woman needed help with. And there was always a list of things to pick up at the local bazaar every morning for their own impending flight. Jack seemed fine by day. But at night, Riddick knew that her dreams were less then restful. He knew because he watched over her as she slept, holding her as she twitched from the ghosts of the past. They never spoke of it by the dawn but they both knew that they couldn't stay. Still every ship Riddick and Imam looked at was wrong in some way. Days turned into weeks and then into months.

Jackie never really recovered from the flight from Helion 5. The situation haunted her because there was such a messy trail left behind. The body in the hanger… The unscheduled takeoff… the unauthorized entry. She'd begged him to find another way… to keep the skiff's owner alive. It had almost worked, until the fellow attacked. She replayed the man's suicidal lunge and her instinctive reaction with her shiv. Blood was red no matter whose it was. Fresh blood on metal looked like red metallic paint. Jackie had acted without thinking… And Riddick had nodded at her, like he knew that one of them was going to kill the fellow. Her later search through the stolen ship turned up that he was a company man, on vacation… should have known there was no such thing as getting away from them that easily. What surprised Jackie was that Riddick did not scold her. Her feelings rolled in silent guilt for weeks. It was hard to deal with her actions when she was told her not to cry for the enemy. The skiff barely made the distance… The entire trip to Imam's house was one chased by phantoms. The ex-ranger had not let them rest until through the front door and even then she had trouble forgetting how easy it would be for someone determined to track them down. But then, she knew things that the trackers had not figured out yet…

She knew that there was a stolen skiff crashed in the sand dunes on the other side of the planet. She knew that Smyth's account had been locked down after she'd made a huge UD withdrawal. Money used to get supplies… She also knew that the company had spies here… Riddick had followed one of them, taken his thumb off as a warning and used it to embezzle a bank, with her help… That money, too, had bought them a ship, fuel, parts... time. So far Imam and Lujjan had no idea that things were falling apart. Yet every night at Imam's house Riddick had slipped out the window and double checked his lines… alarms set up all over the rooftops around it, as he had every night for nearly 4 months. And every day he and Imam went and looked at the ships for sale. But the final straw that made everything fall into place was the poster Riddick brought into their room one night. The Kovans had found the Kubla Khan… and the Chillingsworth clan was rather unhappy. It did not matter really that the find happened on Jackie's 16th birthday. No one was left alive that knew the exact date anyhow. But she sank into a haze of depression that sent Riddick down to the main room with a decision. He'd buy the ship that they'd looked at that day. It was the best one he'd seen, for his proposes anyhow.

Imam handled the transaction, surprised by the amount of cash that Riddick was able to give him. Quietly, behind locked doors, the ex-ranger asked Abu to purchase supplies for a specific environment… one that was cold, dark, and a challenge to survive in. Later, the slim knowledge that Riddick trusted Imam with might be something to regret, but in the large man's mind, getting Jackie off Helion Prime before the mercs moved in was a top concern. For the holy man the time frame was nearly impossible. Riddick set him with a list of simple requests, but gave him only 30 days to gather what he wanted. It was impossible to make a promise that he could not keep, but Abu said he would try to get as much as he could.

Within a day Riddick and Jackie had moved into the ship. There was too much going on with Imam's personal life for he and Jackie to stay at the house any longer. Too much for the holy man to lose by having them there, even if he was not aware of it yet. Even before the papers were signed over, the couple was making repairs. Reflecting on the past whirlwind of events as the ex-ranger sat in the small ship Imam had bought for him, listening to Jackie work with the wiring on the internal sensors, Riddick was prompted to look the inside of the ship over. Bare bones, weight stripped out as much a safely possible, this was not a ship for comfort but utility. While it was not much to look at on the outside, the ship was but fully functional on the inside. And the engines would run fast and sure for long periods of time.

Safe…. She sat in the dark with a tiny soldering tool in one hand in front of a circuit filled with broken connections. Recalling the instructions she had for reconnecting the wires she blinked aside the image in her mind. Safe… But it was not. The clock was ticking. The net was closing in. Her vision crackled again. 'Not safe.' The voices whispered at her with urgency. 'Run, now!' It echoed like a thunder. But were would she go? "I need to stay here. I need to be with him…" she whispered back to them, "I can't survive alone…" Panic gripped her. For a moment her mind was back under the mud and rock, trapped in a tiny space. She fought it off with grim determination. Safe… She was safe here. For the moment, no one knew where she was but time was short. Somehow being in the sunlight had lost its appeal. She wanted the darkness of space; the safety of being inside a tin can that no one could locate. Jackie turned her attention back to the wires and tried to ignore the arrival of the holy man. She'd not seen another person aside from Riddick for days on end and wanted to see Imam, badly. Clamping down on the urge she gritted her teeth and focused on her work.

Riddick watched Abu's silent appraisal of the ship. "It'll work, Imam," he reassured the other man, his friend. After all, he had been going over the systems for three weeks, making sure that the ship would not cut out on him when he needed it most. He knew the ship was solid in spite of its appearance. A designation was already keyed into the controls. Neither he nor the woman working below the floor had left the ship in that time, but everyday at lunchtime the holy man showed up with food and supplies. At one point there had been two different bounties up for Jackie. One had since been pulled, the smaller one by the guild, the one that implied Jackie was innocent of wrongdoing and the victim of foul play. The second one Riddick and Jackie had both kept to themselves. It took some hacking to get it, and it worried Riddick to no end. Chillingsworth's private bounty… payable on delivery to Kovan Penal. Not a nice place in any stretch. And then there were the visions and dreams Jackie kept having. From what Riddick was able to overhear as she talked in her sleep those were unpleasant too.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It's been thirteen days and I've not seen any sign of the bounty going back up since the company pulled it." Imam stood in the doorway. "I worry-"

"Look, I consider you a friend, Imam. But I can't stay. You know already why, and it's just not safe. Come inside." Imam moved in with his load and locked the hatch. "Jackie keeps having dreams of Furya. I don't know what is going on with her, but she told me that we're not safe here. I don't believe in the bullshit, you know that, but she does. And I gotta listen to her."

Imam nodded, "So you will take her with you?" The supplies settled onto the floor with a thud.

"We've been over this before."

"How will she survive there? It is a place so dim even in the daytime that she will not be able to see." Imam had not seen Jackie for over ten days although there was every sign that she was still on the ship. Riddick had been reluctant to call for her, even in days past when Imam had asked to see her. So Imam was trying a different approach. Perhaps his pleas would not fall on deaf ears if he implored to her survival. It worked.

Riddick looked at Imam. He was so tired of the bullshit. They didn't have time for this. But after ten questions, all centering on seeing Jackie, he was ready to give in. What could it hurt? "Jackie? Come up here." He waited for a moment, "Now!"

"I'm fucking busy." Jackie had been upgrading the computer code on the old ship for the last two weeks and had finally resorted to changing the hardwired circuits. Her voice pegged which of the open hatches she was hiding under. Imam looked down at her and practically fell on his ass in surprise as Jackie looked at him and shielded her eyes. "Yeah, okay… so now everyone knows…Fucking wonderful. Fine, I'll come up." As she came into the light Imam could see that her eyes were still honey colored, only they seemed to glitter in the shadows with a silver sheen deep in the pupil. Jackie blinked and put her hand up as she entered the lighted area. "Lights to point-five." She blinked until her eyes adjusted, "Increase to normal, slowly."

"Your eyes…" Imam watched Jackie as she adjusted. The sheen faded as the lights became stronger. "What happened? When?"

"I don't know, Imam. It noticed it about a week and a half ago. I dropped my hand-light and it broke. And I could still see. It seems I'm seeing a broader spectrum than normal, maybe into the ultraviolet range. I can still see color, when I'm careful to give my eyes time to adjust. But a fast move from dark to light is blinding and painful. There is no way I can stay here on Helion."

"I know that if there is one sick fuck out there looking to turn Jackie into a living stature there's got to be more after her. The eyes make it even more difficult."

"Jackie's eyes are different than your eyes, Richard." Imam followed Jackie back into the front of the ship.

"They used to be the same. Well, different color, darker brown, but the same. I picked up the goggles because I needed to be able to move fast. Then I landed at Slam City. That's where I paid the 20 Kools for the shinejob. Color vision don't matter much to me, scaring the shit outta people does."

"So your eyes have been altered."

"Exactly."

"You are Furyan?"

"Who knows." Riddick shrugged.

"It doesn't matter if Riddick is Furyan or not. What bothers me in the new double- wanted post out of Kovan. They are blaming me for Chillingsworth and Junner. The picture is a bit off, but the description is close. Punch it up, Riddick."

Riddick hit a button and pulled up the Intel. "Using 'Audrey Johastein.' Funny I thought the old bastard would want to shuttle that one." Imam moved over to the screen and looked at the picture. The hair was shorter, straight, the face thinner with a slight dimple to the chin that Jackie did not have, but could be explained away as minor. The eyes were the same shape, and the color listed as 'light.' He frowned. "It does state Jack B. Badd as an alias, though," Riddick continued.

"Well, it's out of Kovan, so it's not company. Even if Chillingsworth was a Merc, it's her family putting out the bond." Jackie looked up, "Um, yeah…. That won't take long to register."

"Will you stay until the full 30 days?" Imam asked.

"Don't know. The nearly ship is ready to go, Imam."

"A few days? Lujjan was collecting a few special things for you. Please, Just a few days." Imam had a feeling that he had hours left, not days. That Riddick and Jack would be gone by the next nightfall if they could manage it. He'd have to pack up everything else that he'd collected and make the delivery the next day.

"Fine I'll try."

Jackie watched Imam leave but turned away as he opened the hatch. "You sure it was a good thing to let him know about this new development, Riddick?" She walked over to the large muscular man and put a slim hand on his shoulder. He turned slightly and nuzzled her arm.

"No, but…. He was gonna just keep asking, Jackie."

She felt the familiar tingle race through her again. She never knew how to react when that happened. Sometimes he welcomed her responses and sometimes he pushed her away. Right now she hoped he'd pull her into his lap and go through all the re-assuring steps that they'd worked out so far in their complex, slow-moving courtship. "I got the code upgraded. I'm still not sure I trust the cryo on this boat, though." She leaned over and rubbed her cheek over his head where he'd let his hair grow out for the past couple of weeks that they'd spent in New Mecca. 'Come on, take the hint.'

"The cryo's fine. And we're gonna use it. The engines will run faster that way." Jackie sighed. No winning that one. "Put the supplies away while I finish the engine work." She moved away from him. So, he was in a push-away mood, nothing she could do about it. Her body internally protested doing something other than molding itself to his form. He had to love this deliberate protracted torment he was putting her through. She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand. The latest batch of supplies included spices, vitamins, and salt. Probably good things to have. Jackie moved the crates onto the lifter with the other stuff. She discovered a nice sewing kit, warm shoes, and high-therm fuel too. Jackie did not know where they were gonna go yet, only that it had a dim star. From the looks of the supplies, it was cold. After a number of hours she finished loading the lifter and walked back to where Riddick's feet and legs emerged from a pit in the floor. He grunted and backed out. "Done."

The computer beeped. "This is Helion Port 1, New Mecca. Mr. Smyth, your pilot's credentials show that you are certified to fly up to class 5 vessels. Your current vessel is within allowable parameters. Port 1 will grant your request to fuel your ship."

Riddick hit the comms, "Affirmative." He closed the floor panel. Jackie smiled. A private pilot's license was not an easy thing to forge, but she'd managed it. Riddick grinned at her, "That worked. So what you gonna do for your next trick?"

"Don't know yet. Make myself a new ID?" she shrugged. "I'll just lay low and hope they don't ask for a passenger list."

"I'll tell them that you were hired help and are leaving before takeoff if they ask, then buckle you into cryo so that your readings mute. Your code upgrade should keep them from reading the cryo as active, right?"

"Of course," Jackie hit his arm, "that's what you asked for." She placed a late meal in front of him, "Looks like we got bean soup, bread and butter, and coffee, today." Riddick opened the food-tray and began to eat. "Lujjan packed like 1000 pounds of mixed beans, you know that, don't you?" Riddick raised an eyebrow and chuckled between bites. "And twice as much grain. And four times as much flour…." Jackie laughed, "I'll be grateful later, won't I?" He just nodded. "Figures…."

By noon the next day the port finished the fuel-up. Imam and Carolyn arrived just before the computer beeped again. They brought a much larger 'care-package' than before. He was not alarmed but saddened to hear the pleasant voice state, "You are cleared for takeoff at 400 hours, Mr. Smyth. Have a pleasant trip to Aquila Major." He stood with a number of emotions swirling through him. Carolyn just moved forward and hugged Jack tightly. They had worked through the night to pack up everything else they wanted to give Richard and Jackie. Imam suspected that he'd never see them again.

Jackie hovered by the cargo bay door relishing the hug from the woman she thought of as her sister and watching the play of feelings across the holy man's face. He'd have a family soon, thanks to his relationship with Lujjan. She could bet that he had no idea. It would be so much safer for him and the others once she and Riddick were far away from here. Carolyn pulled away and moved over to Riddick, surprising him with a similar hug. Jack just watched, feeling detached. Lately the whispers from Furya were stronger, even coming to her in her waking hours. The deep voice saying, "Thank you, Port One. Read, takeoff at 400," sounded surreal and distant to her ears due to the echoes screeching for her to run fast and far. She shoved her hands into her pockets as she looked on the scene around her.

Riddick wrapped his arms around the tearful docking pilot briefly before turning to the holy man. He too was feeling the urge to flee. It was becoming stronger with each passing hour. It was time to go. Carolyn didn't say anything as she moved back to Imam's side. He set his face into a mask as he watched Imam look from Jackie to him and back again. "I am sad to see you go. Lujjan sent cases of dried fruit for you and extra little things that she thought you might want more of." He walked over to Jackie and took her hands, "You have become an amazing young woman. Make sure that he takes care of you." Imam kissed her forehead. He then moved over in front of Riddick; "I am honored that you have chosen me as a friend. Your path is a danger-filled one. I can only pray that the trip buys you peace."

Riddick's jaw tightened slightly, "It won't Imam. We might gain time, little more. But at least you three will be safe."

Jackie frowned at Riddick's words before attempting to direct Abu's attention on something more pleasant, "Tell Lujjan that we appreciate her efforts over the last three weeks, Imam. And…. Tell her that she's gonna need this baby blanket more than I am, because soon it'll be four of you." Jackie pressed the pink and blue bear covered blanket that she'd bought for Lujjan into Imam's hands.

"You mean?" His face lit up like he'd been given back his life at last.

"Yeah." Jackie laughed. Imam hugged her before he and Carolyn left. She then moved over to her mate and placed a hand on his arm. Part of Jackie was crushed at leaving yet she hoped that her path in life would never bring her back here, to Helion Prime. For some reason the idea of returning to this place terrified her. They stood together, in silence, each in their own world, mourning for friendships that should have never been. Saying goodbye to this light filled world hopefully forever. She looked at Riddick as the hour approached for them to leave, "Riddick? Ever feel like the future is something to run from? Like you know that you won't like it, so you keep trying to avoid--"

He looked at her. His face softened as he guided her to the back and began hooking her into the cryo. Things were gonna be all right, he knew at that moment. He had her at his side and that was all he needed. "The only future I want is the one I make for myself, Jacket." He kissed her cheek. His fingers gently caressed her skin. His eyes locked onto hers, 'He feels the same way about me that I feel about him. I know it. I'm certain, now.' Feeling the effects of the drugs, she blinked at him as the cryo took over her body functions… things faded out.


	24. Aquilan Trail

A/N: This chapter has SEX. Yeah, Riddick finally gets his act together. I attempted to be tasteful and to describe things from an emotional/spiritual perspective. Still, if you flame I'll just use 'em to toast marshmellows... Coming soon: We'll get to meet Kyra! Yep, she not Jack. Well, not exactly anyhow...

The Aquilan Trail

Richard B. Riddick sat staring out into the black of space. Out of the millions of twinkling lights, a single small set of artificial ones was slowly shifting to reveal an automated outpost, courtesy of the Aquilan System. He adjusted the ship into a slow tumble on its side, made more believable because the engine on that side was sputtering because it was so low on fuel. He thought it was, in a way, very sad that his current ship, the only one he could claim to legally own, was about to die a not-so-noble death. The ship had been a good one. It served him well for the time he'd had it. He pushed the thoughts aside as he considered exactly what his next move needed to be.

The bare-bones ship that protected him and his precious 'cargo' flew like a sleek eager hunter away from the hindrance of planets. It had been, in a previous incarnation, a small long-range private cargo ship and in the depth of space that showed. It was really too bad that the small fuel cells limited the sturdy ship's range and thus, to Riddick at least, its value. He knew already that the plans to get Jack to safety meant that they needed another, larger, ship. Lucky, long range freighters were easy to come by in Aquilan space. After weeks of carefully watching and pushing the ship to its limits, they were almost there. He rubbed his eyes and looked back at the woman peacefully sleeping. His own stint in cryo had ended hours before. He had work to do to make sure that it looked like 'Smyth' had perished. He set about destroying parts of the ship…

Not that Jack was aware of it while in cryo. Her mind was far away from her body. She could feel Furya right there, almost like a living thing wanting to welcome her home, only lately every time she'd gone there it was pain she got. The spirits were active, and each one wanted to tell her its story. It was a struggle on her part to avoid the agony. She couldn't handle any more. There was already too much stress. So this time Jackie willed herself to rest and saw nothing but muddy blackness even as she felt Furya tugging at her.

Riddick turned away from his calculated violence and guessed that it was time to focus on the life support. He needed to wake Jack now. The easy way was to just rip out the controls for the system so that the emergency systems forced her awake. It would be rude, but with the outpost scanning them he needed it to look like the systems were failing. "Sorry, babe," he mumbled under his breath as he caught a fist full of wires and set the cutting torch on them to make them appear fried. The alarms made an abortive attempt to activate in spite the fact that he'd smashed them already.

Jack was suddenly pumped full of drugs designed to wake her up. Her eyes flew open. 'Still in space,' was the thought that made its way through her sluggish mind. The view that greeted her eyes spun like a head on view of a top. She swayed and blinked at it, not sure of what her eyes were telling her. Weird, it didn't feel like the ship was spinning, but space usually didn't move like that. The confusion from the movement delayed her recovery. She slowly wobbled her way forward, hands out in front of her like a blind woman. As her senses returned she found herself behind Riddick swaying slightly as she held the pilot's chair. Jackie looked out at the small asteroid slowly filling the screen as they approached. There was a cave-like hole in the middle of it and a computerized voice crackled across the speakers asking if they required help.

Riddick's answer was to cause the main console to go up in a shower of sparks. Jack flinched back but managed to keep her feet. Shortly thereafter, the automatic functions of the outpost caught the ship and guided it closer. Riddick had burned the engines hot and fast, using up the fuel but covering the distance in record time. Jackie's internal alterations of the sensors muted the readings of life aboard the ship. That factor and the physical condition of the ship prompted the outpost to consider the situation an emergency.

The asteroid didn't look like much. Doubt swelled up in Jackie's soul, giving voice to her thoughts, "You sure about this, Riddick? Can we really find a ship in there?" Jack was surprised to hear her voice as she stated her doubts out loud.

He was aware of her behind him, and briefly he considered how to answer. It was better to be totally honest, he decided, "No." Riddick looked back at her stricken face and squeezed her arm, "But something's got to turn up, Jacket." She smiled at him and he grinned back at her. "Get the loader ready and make sure you have yourself good and warm. This is going to happen fast."

It boiled down to trust. She had to trust him just as he trusted her. "Right." No point in arguing. Jackie readied the huge loader so that it was an easy push out the door. She slipped on the heavy coat and warm pants Imam had provided and them felt in the pocket. "There's a box in this pocket?" She pulled it out to find that it was tied shut with a small piece of ribbon. A small tag was tucked into the bow. Jackie pulled it out to find it had her name on it.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. It's from Imam…Why he'd hide it?" She got the ribbon off and opened the box to discover a pair of goggles inside. "Look at this…"

Riddick looked over at her. "Stop staring at the damn things and put them on, Jackie. He hid them so that Lujjan would not know about your eyes."

"I thought we trusted Lujjan."

"To a point, Babe." Riddick trashed even more of the ship as the Aquilan outpost pulled them in. "Right now, though, I got a feeling we shouldn't trust anyone." Jackie heard metal crunching and looked his direction. She noticed he was destroying much of the ship's delicate systems, liberally ripping out and smashing anything that might give some clue to the ship's owners, passengers, or flight path. "I want you to stay out of sight of the cameras and scans, got it?"

"What, hide on the loader? Why so paranoid all of the sudden?"

Riddick looked back at her again. "Gut feeling. Don't argue," he ordered.

"Alright, Riddick." Jackie sighed and made herself an opening so that she could hide inside the stuff. "You're going after a Kovan ship, aren't you?"

Laughter punctuated the destruction, "Yeah." Jackie shook her head. 'Gut feeling, my ass.' She waited until he waved her to move then crawled inside the small cavity and pulled the box into place. 'Okay, I hope this goes fast.' She heard the sounds of the ship being pulled into place and robotic arms linking up to it. Then she heard Riddick start up the loader and open the hatch. Outside the ship was bitterly cold, the air was thin and filled with fuel fumes, not a place built with the living in mind. She guessed the loader was moving due to the hum of its control unit but because it was a self-contained gravity unit she did not feel it moving. Jackie heard Riddick open another hatch. 'Must've found a Kovan ship…' she thought as the loader moved into a warmer, denser atmosphere. "Stay hidden until I come back for you." She heard Riddick's voice and the sounds of him moving off to secure the ship. She waited. The loader had in reality about six months of supplies, maybe more if they were careful. Not enough for a long-term hideout. Jackie shifted enough to peek out the crack in the boxes. A full storeroom. 'A freighter?' she thought. 'Looks like food supplies, likely not much variety. Something fresh or living, though, from the temperature. I wonder how big a ship this is.' Sounds of battle reached her ears, a very short battle. Riddick came into view. "I dumped the crew, but it's not safe yet. You still Okay?"

"A little cramped here, but the faster you get this ship out of here the faster I can come out right?" He moved the box so that he could see her. "I'll stay put until you say."

"Just stay in the cargo hold until we are in space." He helped her out, "Looks like this ship was taking supplies for a 'goll religious event. I've never seen so much different stuff in one place outside a market. Go ahead and look around."

Jackie nodded as she stood up. She began to take note of the items in the hold. Flowers…. Cloth, too thin to be of use…. Ah, some food. Live, but in cryo, fish, 'Really expensive way to move fish.' Jackie was aware that the temperature was warmer than the outside but not really that warm. Still, it was slightly above freezing. She looked around some more noting that there were a wide variety of things in the hold, mostly fresh, but less than she'd expected of each item. She reached a door, walked around the entire outside of a small room, and moved back to the door. Something tugged at the pit of her stomach. "Riddick?"

"Yeah?" He was some distance off but began moving closer.

"I found something odd." Jackie waited until Riddick was with her before opening the door. Inside were two cryo pods. The power was on to them but not enough for keeping people alive. "What the fuck is this?"

Riddick moved into the room past her. He began to laugh. "Damn. My shiv is still in his eye!"

Jackie moved over next to him. It was the bodies of Junner and Chillingsworth. "Son of a bitch…" she whispered. "This stuff is for a funeral…."

"Looks like the damage you did to bitch-witch's ship set them to drifting for a good while. I'm gonna dump these in space after I get my shiv back. We are almost fueled up. Go back to the loader." Jackie nodded. The bodies were in bad shape. She moved off and gratefully allowed Riddick to handle the find.

The freighter that they'd hijacked off the Aquilan automated outpost was a fast ship capable of long distances. Riddick's main concern was not distance but pushing the engines fast and hard. He planned this to be a one way trip. Jackie busied herself with sorting the stuff in the cargo holds, moving things that they could use to the inside walls with the loader. The flowers were shuffled to the outer walls. The ship had four holds in all. Jackie tried to use how the Hunter Gratzner and come apart to figure out what might survive. She really doubted that the planet they were going to would have a docking station and shuttle service…. Everything worth keeping, even the stuff she could not see immediate use for like the thin cloth, went to the front inside walls in layers of what was most useful to what was least so. Riddick let her be for a very long time before coming back to look at what she was doing. "Good," he said. He began to help.

"We're in space?" Jackie asked as she worked. Riddick nodded. "How much time do we have before we shut ourselves into cryo?"

"No cryo. I shifted the cryo power over to life support. Once we get this done I'm gonna take care of the fish. I found a freezer unit."

Jackie looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Okay, how long until we crash?"

"I'll let you know."

"Where are we going?" Jackie opened a crate and looked inside. It was food. She pushed it onto the loader.

"Nowhere important. Hopefully someplace out of the way enough that the Mercs won't think to look." Riddick moved over and helped her with the next crate. Jackie gave him a 'why won't you tell me' look and turned her back to him as she opened another box. He just looked at her. "Babe, it's not a place you've heard of."

"Okay. You want to save power? Cut the lights. Neither of us needs them. Oh, look at this…. Empty calories…sugar…" She laughed. "They must have been planing on making deserts." They loaded the box up, Riddick trying to ignore the nagging feeling that made him think he should tell Jack everything he knew. They were in this together, right? She did deserve to know where he was taking her, didn't she? After the loader was moved and unpacked he paused and looked at her. She glanced at him with an expression that was beautiful to behold. "What's the matter, Riddick?" She cocked her head to the side and gave him a small, trusting, smile. He couldn't help himself, and mirrored her expression for a moment, relief flooding through him. "Go fix the lights, you dumb lug!" she teased.

He let out a slight chuckle as he moved away to divert the energy from lighting to life support. As the lights flicked off, Jackie sighed and removed her goggles. A dim star would be a welcome thing. After being forced to wear them, Jack found that she hated the goggles with a passion. It was not hard to figure that Riddick found them to be just as uncomfortable. His light footsteps brought her back to her work. He joined her and they finished the shifting in silence. Once finished, Jackie walked into the center hall and unzipped her coat. It was much warmer here. Riddick joined her. She felt his arms slide around her sides and pull her close. She relaxed into him letting his familiar warmth soothe her worries away. Jackie reached up and curled her fingers over his. She could stand here, like this, forever. He nuzzled her hood down and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Um, your hair is curling as it grows."

She suppressed a giggle, "Yeah? It had a wave before."

He turned her and slid her coat off, dropping it to the floor. "Come up to the cockpit," he took her hand and lead her there.

"What's up, Riddick?"

"I'm gonna teach you to pilot, Jackie. I'll teach you everything you need to know." With those words he set about to do just that. He covered everything she needed to know in order to handle monitoring the flight path and then to show her he trusted her he left her alone in the cockpit when he went to handle the fish.

So, Jackie did indeed monitor the flight path. She also dug into the computer enough to look at the information that there was to be had about where they were going. She noticed that the ship was rapidly leaving Aquilan space in favor of wild uncharted regions. The flight data sure made it look like they were on the most direct route to a star listed as an ultraviolet one. She glanced at the likely location they were headed to and pulled up what info there was to be had. Making sure that the ship was clear of comets and wayward chunks of rock at the moment, she figured that a few minutes digging in the database wouldn't hurt anything. By the plotted path, if that star was the one they were headed for, it looked to be a two-month trip on high burn. The path was pretty clear, but the star was in uncharted space. The information about it stated that there was a planet that landed on the 'just-barely-able-to-support-life' range. It would be harsh, cold, and dark existence, if they lived long enough to make it to that point. There was no data about how the ship was going to land on that planet, or how they would survive it. She hoped that Riddick took the time to slow the ship down before crashing it.

It was many hours later when he came back. He brought her a blanket and was freshly showered. "Hey," she greeted as she turned her chair.

He stood in front of her, "Hey." It was a deep rumble. Something stirred within the core of Jackie's being. That sound. His voice. She trembled. His silver eyes glistened like twin stars in the black of space. His gleaming gaze caught and held her golden one. Time slowed. He watched her reaction to his greeting before he planted his hands to either side of her and leaned in, breathing as slowly, as fully as he could, to take in her fragrance. Jackie's heart fluttered as his face moved in close to her neck. She closed her eyes and drank deep of his warm musk-like odor that rose fresh from his clean skin. Parts of her throbbed for more contact. She slowly slid her hands onto his arms and nuzzled his neck with her face, pausing to tickle his skin with her eyelashes. A deep, amused, reverberation rippled through Jackie; one that was felt more than heard. He caressed her neck with his face in response seeming to take pleasure in the fact that he could feel her skin on his eyelids and temples. She felt his eyelashes sweep over her neck. Chills raced across her skin causing her to wiggle slightly in the chair.

"Um…" she pressed her face into the hollow of his neck and gently brushed her lips over the smoothness of his skin. She languidly, exquisitely, teased her tongue over the same path. His skin heated. She could feel it under her hands. He tasted good. He smelled good. She felt his lips on the smooth skin behind her jaw and under her ear, sliding like velvet, followed by the warmth of his tongue. Sparks shot through her. Had he felt the same when she tasted his skin? She wiggled again. He was waiting. Jackie moved her hands up under his tank, fluttering her fingers along the muscles of his sides, tracing his scars. His pulse was a beat faster than normal. She kept her face pressed into the hollow of his neck. He lightly worked his hand under her top and back behind her. He traced her spine with a sensual caress. She arched slightly without thinking and lifted her head to find his face nose to nose with hers. His other arm folded itself behind her. Inside she felt like a lightening storm was surging, flooding her with sensation she could not fight. Jackie clung to him. It would be too much for her to handle if he pushed her away now.

"Babe?" He sounded breathless, like she was squeezing the air out of him. His voice was low and soft but filled with urgency. Her head swam. She released him from her hug as she pushed her body against his. He was watching her. Jackie put her hands on his face. She investigated the lines of his face with her hands. He closed his eyes as she brushed her thumbs over his eyebrows and fanned her fingers over his forehead. Her lips found his, just a light stroke in passing as she kissed his cheeks, nose, eyelids and brow with a soft pattering touch. Something primal yet arousing purred from deep in his chest. His hands mirrored her path, rubbing gently over the contours of her face. Jackie's breath caught in her throat. Her skin tingled at every point where his hands came in contact, hot and cold all at once. Riddick ran his hands lightly down the sides of her neck and across her shoulders as he followed her step of their courtship, teasing the delicate skin on her face with nimble velvet pats. She arched her head back and put her hands on his elbows. He nibbled a bit at her chin, "Jack?"

She snapped out of her aroused state. "What, Riddick?" Annoyance tinged her voice. He looked amused again. Maybe he liked getting hot and bothered then pulling away. Jackie was at her wit's end.

"I want to – um…" He stood up and lifted her at the same time. "Let's put those flowers to use."

"What?"

He laughed. "You are too beautiful to not make this special." She stared at his back as he walked to the storage hold.

Jackie tried to ignore whatever it was that Riddick was doing. She could smell the roses and lilacs and guessed that he was selecting the most fragrant blooms. She stood up and glanced down the central hall. Riddick turned his back to her and waved her off. Something exotic floated back to her nose, sweet like honeysuckle but not as strong. She tried to be angered enough with him to force the curiosity back, but it was proving impossible. She ducked out of sight as he crossed back into the cargo hold. She waited for a moment and then ventured forward. He came back into the hall with a bolt of the shimmery sheer cloth. "Wait."

"For what? This is so not like you…"

"Just wait."

Jackie blinked at him as he blocked her view and slipped through the door into the rather fragrant room beyond. "Okay, it's so not necessary, Riddick."

He popped back out of the room and handed her several yards of the cloth. "Get a shower."

"Why?"

"I'm asking you to."

"Um, a -- _cold_ -- shower…?"

"What? No…" he put a hand under her chin. "No more teasing, okay?"

He might have well as kissed her at that point because Jackie felt suddenly light-headed and giddy. Her resistance melted away. She caught his hand and kissed his fingers. "Okay…" she whispered. Jackie felt almost like she was floating as she wandered off to the shower. He was gonna really follow through this time. Jackie's mind tried to figure out what he could possibly be thinking of. Was he making a connection between the flowers and fertility? He'd said a number of times that Johns had not messed her up with the rock fall. She still wasn't sure about that, really. Maybe he didn't care. Jackie started up the shower and stripped off her clothes. She could hear Riddick in the hallway because the doors kept opening and closing.

The warm water felt really good against her hand, so she took the plunge and stepped into the shower. The water was delicious and refreshing all by itself. She closed her eyes and let the warmth soak into her skin, pattering in a stimulating pattern across her flesh for a time before lathering up with the unscented body-wash hanging over the showerhead. After rinsing, Jackie shut off the water and toweled off. Then she looked at the shimmery cloth and raised an eyebrow. She picked it up and shook it out. 'So, what am I supposed to do with this? Wear it? This seems so silly….' She found the middle of the cloth, gathered it up in a toga type of thing and loosely tied it. Jackie adjusted it a bit and tucked in the ends.

The hall was covered with a mixture of fragrant petals by the time she walked out of the shower. Each step washed her in a softly beautiful aroma. Riddick had clearly taken care with his blending of smells if not colors. In the total darkness of deep space any other couple would be panicking, but this was no ordinary couple. Jackie's eyes caught the individual petals as easily as her toes. Riddick had fooled the door sensors into staying open so that it was easy for her to find his location. "Hey…" she called as she entered the petal carpeted room.

"Hey," he huskily whispered as he began to circle…. Jackie smiled at Riddick's animalistic approach. She coyly tilted her head and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. He had his shoes off and his pants resting on his hips lower than normal. 'So ready to take those off of you…. I can't stand this!' Jackie's pulse and breathing increased as he passed in front of her just out of reach, teasing. The thin cloth hid nothing. She knew his luminous eyes drank in every change, every shift her body involuntarily made. She could smell him through the floral perfume his feet caused to fill the air. His musk, so aphrodisiac, seemed increased by a counterpoint of sweetness the flower petals provided. Jackie took in a deep breath, filling her lungs with it, letting it lift her into a plane of pure sensation. Her eyes closed. He swept in closer, still moving, radiating heat, drinking up her clean scent, making her react spontaneously, locking her into the dance of their mutual desire. She was only dimly aware of retracing their earlier steps. The sniffing, the reaching, the tasting, all performed in a rhythm that only they knew, one that beat to the tempo of their heartbeats.

Had they been observed, their audience might have agreed with Chillingsworth – that they were, in fact, art. Her body had become sculpted by exercise and growth into a lean, muscular form that fit into the spaces created by his body as they circled in the darkness. But neither of them spared thought of that. They only knew that they needed each other in a deep carnal way, that they were driven by biology much as generations before them had been. Jackie was absorbed in the moment. This perfect, timeless, moment. Nothing else existed. Nothing else mattered.

This time, when he extended his arm to skim just a hair's width over her skin she seemed to dance with it, gracefully twisting to provide a counterpoint to his movement. Her arms reached and encircled his waist, not quite touching, but close enough to raise the hairs on his skin from the energy that was building between them. His hands finely brushed her shoulders and she reached up and back, arching to touch him. Her arms circled his neck as he leaned over her, nuzzling her hair, lightly nibbling on her ear, brushing his lips and tongue over her skin. Together, they found the hollow of the other's throat as their bodies closed the distance, molding into one another as they sought as much contact as possible. The fluttering caresses of fingers and lips were undeniably gentle. Every touch glittered and rippled like waves across the pond of her being. She could feel his skin respond to her touch, the hairs lifting like electricity was arcing between them. She rotated on the ball of her foot, finding his shoulder, brushing her cheek across his bronze muscled body, echoing his movements, nibbling, kissing, and tasting….

Still turning around a hidden center. Riddick removed the cloth covering Jackie and let it flutter to their feet. Their slow tightening spiral moved them away from it onto fresh petals, but his focus was her face, his need to memorize the contours of her lips, the sweep of her brow, the curves of her cheeks and the edge of her jaw. Jackie also was consumed by this desire, this compulsion to know every line of his face. She was so enthralled with this intent that she did not notice him removing his own remaining clothing. He did it so gracefully that she might not have noted it anyhow. His fingers trailed sparks across her back and down to her hips. She arched up into his chest, running her hands up onto his neck and into his hair. They fit each other, line for line, and curve for curve. Energy crackled and sparkled between them charging their embrace with all of the passion of Furya. It crashed like thunder. The first peal of the rising storm.

His desire to profoundly know her figure drew his attention away from her face, to her neck, shoulders, and the swell of her breasts that he'd watch appear over the months as he'd taught her. Jackie felt his fingers lightly move over her skin, following the shapes of her body. His face pursued a similar path; nuzzling, velvety patters, warm moist tickles, the smoothness of teeth, his warm breath, and the random effortless suckle. Inside she tingled, every nerve alight with desire. He gracefully slid down as he explored her. She was torn between curling over him and arching away. In the end his scent won out. She put her hands firmly on his shoulders and curved her body over him as he worked his touch lower, across her stomach. He moved his cheek and entire face against the firmness of her muscled abdomen. So close to the source of her scent. So close to the core of her being. He paused there, imbibing her essence, building her fire. Riddick could feel her breathing, her pulse racing, but he wanted it higher, deeper. His hands caressed her sides, her back, the curves of her hips and posterior in slow, light, tiny, circles. Jackie loosely skimmed her palms down his back to either side of his spine, twisting to one side to kiss his ear. They were in new territory now, beyond where they'd gone before. She shifted her hips in his hands, a tiny wiggle that flooded his nose with a mixture of scents.

He had been so gentle that his sudden lifting of her off her feet produced a startled gasp. For a moment her head swam and she was unsure of up or down. His hands cradled her weight like a chair. His arms were remarkably unstrained from the shift. She recovered her sense of direction and looked at his face. So intense, filled with desire, ripped open. She lost her apprehension within his quicksilver eyes. Jackie settled her feet back onto the floor, legs apart, leaning back, and balancing with her hands on his shoulders. Her breath came excited and fast. Riddick growled softly as he brushed his lips on her knee. Jackie became aware of a deeper sensation, a throbbing unlike anything she'd felt before. He leaned in, shifted her balance again so that one leg crooked over his shoulder, and playfully nibbled on her inner thigh. The throbbing expanded up and out, a deep booming feeling accompanied by a fevered flush. Jackie found her balance and ran a trembling hand under his chin. His eyes followed her arm up to her face. Something unreadable lingered there, some desire that she could not comprehend yet. But she could see that he was not going to withdraw this time, that he was beyond stopping, and he was not going to hurt her. She closed her eyes and languidly curved her body gracefully back so that her hands rested on the floor behind her head. His posture shifted too, moving so the one hand rested in the small of her back. His other hand settled on her lower abdomen and fanned out before gliding up the smooth arc of her body. She could feel his sight soaking her up. She wiggled under his hand as he felt across her chest finding the knots of sensitive nerves that shot electricity back down her torso.

There were other areas he wanted to touch, to taste. Jackie couldn't have stopped him if she'd wanted to. Not that she did. She was aware of his breath, his teeth, his lips and tongue, exploring her where she was most sensitive. It was intense. It washed her in the hottest flashes of sensation she'd ever felt. What surprised her was that she wanted it. She wanted more of it. That she was making it easy for him to torment her, going counter to everything she'd ever thought about how she'd react. The old familiar tingle started in her feet, building and intensifying as it moved up her legs. It joined with the throbbing, the deep hot flashes, and the wash of her pulse in her ears. A deep rich moan emerged from her throat. There was too much happening for her to sort it out. She found herself in a bodiless state, floating, blissful. She hovered there for a timeless moment before crashing suddenly back into her body.

"What--?" she gasped.

Riddick let out a deep laugh. "You like that?" he inquired. She was aware of a tickle, an emptiness, a yearning that ached to be filled. Her eyes filled with moisture. His teeth caught a fold of sensitive flesh and teasingly gave way to suckling. She shifted her legs but did not push away. "I'm not--" he licked, "-- done yet." Jackie swallowed.

He didn't linger for an answer. Jackie found herself on the petal-covered cot, sideways with him standing over her, watching her chest heave from her breathing. She found he was perfect, scars and all. There was nothing she'd change. Except for the fact that he was once again making her wait. She squirmed against the small bed, raising a cloud of scent in the process. His deep voice resonated through her, "Beautiful." She moaned from the renewed sparks the sound created. It was all he needed to act. He moved in close, near enough to almost touch body to body. Jackie suddenly felt silly and kissed his nose. "Um…" Riddick began to tease her with his hands ever so lightly. She wrapped one leg up over him. That empty feeling demanded to be filled so much so that she ached from it. The tickle had become an inflamed prickle, an itch driving her mad. He had to know, to see it in her face and body how badly she wanted… him, closer. As close as he could get. He made an amused rumble, "Wait." She groaned. He smiled at her passionate agony and moved painstakingly down her body again.

His touch, light as it was, made her dig her fingers into the covers. He licked her inner thigh, nibbling on her soft skin ever so gently. It drew her attention away from his fingers that were carefully exploring her, searching for another exquisitely sensitive area. There was no mistaking when he found it. Jackie suddenly felt herself burning with intense sensation originating deeper within her body than she'd realized was possible. It consumed her, blotting out her awareness of everything else. She strained up off the bed, tensing with every muscle possible. It was what he'd been looking for. Riddick worked her higher. All she could do was ride it to its conclusion. Again she was in that timeless place, blissful, floating. She was cognizant that somehow she transcended her body into a different level of awareness. Here, she perceived without boundaries, but what she saw she had no reference for. She drifted there in wonder. Then she was slammed back into her body, her flesh buzzing with energy and desire for the man who loomed over her. She'd do anything, go anywhere, for him…for this.

She fluttered open her eyes. She could sense that he wanted her as badly as she needed him. Jackie lifted a foot slowly up onto his thigh and traced the shapes of his muscles until she reached the hollow of his hip. She teased his flesh with her toes, watching his face as she moved ever closer to the one thing she burned intensely for. He watched her face too, as he felt her toes slide over him. She would never be more ready. The union would never be more explosive or intense. He picked her up off the cot and guided her into position, pausing to judge one last time if this was what she wanted. Jackie wrapped her legs around him, "Riddick…" her voice was sexy, throaty, deep and passionate. She folded her arms around his neck and kissed him. He was not pushing away this time, not now…

At last he claimed what was his, forfeiting his freedom forever to her, forging a bond stronger than flesh and blood in the inferno of their desire. Jackie felt him deep inside. Every throb was like an explosion of sensation. She quickly lost herself in the powerfulness of the act. 'So this is sex…' part of her mind commented, 'reward enough for my shitty life. Do I deserve such bliss? Damn straight I do.' Each second drove her closer to that place of bodiless ecstasy, but this time she fought it. She did not want to be there alone. She'd rather be at the brink in Riddick's arms than on the other side without him. So Jackie fought it off for as long as she could, and when she could no longer struggle against it… Riddick was there.

They were like one creature here. Suddenly she understood. He'd been here before; his perception of it fed her the information she needed to make sense of it. Although they had separate minds, some other part of their essence was united and across that union, she could see into his darkness with greater clarity than ever before. She took his pain, his suffering, his trauma, and made it her own. She was dimly aware that he was doing the same. 'Protected and protector…'

Having gone this far, taken this step, Riddick's entire life goal shifted. Personal survival had no meaning if it did not include his mate. Life without her would be empty and worthless. He'd killed for less. He made the shift in paradigm as he realized what it was that she'd been saying all this time. She'd do anything to protect him, her champion… her mate. She'd never leave his side. For once he felt at peace with things, with his life, with his destiny. And for a brief moment he understood more than he could possibly remember. His dreams seemed to fit into place. The Darkness illuminated itself into something more. Understanding destiny and facing destiny were two different things however. The risk was that he'd lose her. Not acceptable. He set his mind to fight it for as long as possible. He had what he wanted, what he needed… the universe could fuck itself. Destiny could fuck itself. Furya could fuck itself.

At some point Jackie had fallen asleep. She did not realize it until she woke up. Petals stuck to her skin. With a moan, she brushed them off. Her movement produced a deeper echo and elicited a gentle but secure embrace. Riddick was behind her, covering her, fitting her with his warmth. She had to pee. "Riddick? I gotta get up." She lifted his arm with some difficulty. He either really trusted her or was acting like he was deep asleep. Her feet made a light patter on the metallic floor as she moved to the toilet. Jackie didn't shut the door but she felt a need to linger in the small room after emptying her bladder. What had happened? What had they done? Even away from him she could feel him like he was right there, behind her, just out of eyesight. And she knew his name… his Furyan name… Amadak…

The cot creaked. "Jackie?" His voice was sleepy, calling her back to the now, "Babe?"

"I had to pee…" she returned to him. He reached out and gathered her up in his arms commenting with only a soft murmur. Jackie pushed her face into his neck and nibbled, "I wasn't going anywhere."

"So, we need a piss-pot under the damn bed." He began to entice her body into arousal again, "I forgot women need to pee after sex."

"New one to me. Then again I've never had sex before… Hey, you can't be wanting to do that again can you?" she knew deep down that she wanted him to say yes. He didn't answer in words but actions. Jackie noticed that he had scratches, fresh ones, some were rather deep and had clearly bled. "Riddick? I, um…"

"Don't worry about it." He certainly didn't seem to mind the marks or the blood. He might have wanted her to claw him more by the way he was making her move. Not that he was rough but she knew she was not recovered fully from before and was still sensitive.

Jackie squirmed, "Riddick? No one is watching the controls."

"You wanna fuck in the cockpit?"

He was so blunt. Jackie laughed, "Okay, sure… anywhere you want." The idea was not a bad one, evidently, as Riddick picked her up and carried her though the ship. 'What a sight we must be. I wonder if other couples act like this on dark ships while in deep space. Alone.' She giggled, "We are so depraved."

"Um-huh. Totally." He barely lifted his face from her skin to speak. Jackie tried to stay aware of what he was doing this time instead of becoming lost in her own feelings. Riddick paused from his enraptured attention on her for just a briefest of moments to check the readouts, dropped her into a chair and adjusted it for his comfort as he kneeled in front of her. She raised an eyebrow. Riddick leaned her back and put his fingers to work, honing in on the two spots she had no control over. 'So much for paying attention…' she heard herself gasp and groan, and the seat creaked as she arched against it. Her body took on a life of its own, independent of her mind before washing out her ability to think, 'I sure hope he teaches me how to inflict this kind of torment on him… It's not fair, really. I want to watch him too…' she surrendered herself to sensations he produced in her body. Her first trip to the other side was a short one, kind of like a cork bobbing in the water. Jackie's body was still trembling from release when she popped back into it. She curled herself up and looked him over. "Now. I want you -- now."

"Do you?" He sat back on his heels. "No one's stopping you."

Jackie made her own purring growl and pounced on him. "You're gonna teach me what you like Riddick."

"I like you," he playfully nipped at her breast. "I like – this," he ran his fingers over her hips, between her legs, as she crouched just above the point of union. "Go on, Jackie. I'm yours." She cocked her head to one side. She hadn't thought of it like that. Her perception had always been of her belonging to him, not the other way around. It was a profound sudden alteration of how she looked at the dynamics of their connection. Shirah had told her that she held power in the relationship but Jackie thought it ended with her acceptance of Riddick as her mate. She shifted back, away from him, looking at his form. Suddenly she needed to explore this, this new sense of curious desire. She needed to touch and taste. He didn't stop her, no matter where her fingers roamed, no matter what she did with her mouth. She explored his legs, his back, his groin, his chest, and everywhere else. He simply shifted slightly as needed to help her reach. There was no pressure to do any certain thing on her part, so Jackie let instinct take over.

His scent, erotic and warm, was so familiar. She faintly smelled herself on his skin too. She slid her cheek into his abdomen, following the separation of his muscles with her tongue, working lower. Her fingers touched him in places she'd seen but never touched before. He was so toned, so firm, so smooth…yet parts of his skin was baby soft, delicate beyond compare. She could hear his heart, picking up speed. Much of what she touched with her fingers she was compelled to follow with her mouth. It awed her that she could do this to him; he was so unflappable and calm. But here they were, and she was in full control. Control he willing gave up to her. Jackie moved slowly, searching for his hidden spots, places she could exploit to watch him fly through the sensations she'd experienced. He concealed nothing from her as she sent him into places he rarely visited. "I like that…" he whispered as she watched him settle back into his flesh.

"So do I, Riddick. I like it a lot." She cleaned him off with her tongue enjoying the mixture of salts on his skin, "Um…"

"Now you know how to wake me in the morning, babe."

Jackie laughed. Impossibly, she still wanted him. "Man, we are never going to accomplish anything. But, um, sex… I didn't know I had such a dirty mind."

"Wait." He sat in the pilot's chair and patted his lap. 'So okay, wait but not too far away,' Jackie thought with a smile as she wove her way over to him. She stood teasingly to the side until he caught her and pulled her down. "Sex is good."

"We haven't fucked yet." She said with a giggle.

"Getting to that. Just wait." He busied them both with another piloting lesson. He confirmed Jackie's hunch that they headed to UV. Panic threatened to set in. She had so little time to learn how to fly well enough to help him crash this ship so that neither of them died. 'One hell of a final exam' she thought grimly. His voice closer to her ear saying, "Don't worry, babe. We got it covered," was what jarred her away from her fear. Still, it took a lot for her to focus on what he was telling her, and the fact that she was sitting in his lap with not a scrap to separate their skin didn't help. But she tried with all her might for several hours. She learned something, too. It would be a bad thing for her to sit in his lap during the landing process on UV…

Finally Jackie fidgeted. Riddick stirred in response. She looked at him with a questioning expression, "Now?"

"Um, yeah. Right now."

In a sudden fit of silliness, Jackie got up and dodged away from him. 'God knows I want this so bad, but I can't help it…' Riddick was on to her game, cornering her against the hull. She tickled his ribs and dodged but not fast enough to get away. He laughed, lifted her up and pinned her. "Um, Riddick?" He looked at her with a 'what?' expression. "This metal is cold," she squirmed. He nodded. She curled her legs around his waist. His hands moved to support her back, "Oh – Um, yeah…that'll warm me up." He guided her down, all the way, stripping the humor out of the situation with his excitement. Jackie curled her fingers in his hair. He knew exactly what to do to push her beyond reason, beyond thought, into a state of pure feeling. Back to the point of oneness. Once there Jackie realized that her little chase was what he needed, what he wanted…. A spark of innocence that had been lacking in his life. She complimented him that way, showing him back to his human side, lifting him clear of the things that made him no longer care. Giving him a reason to live above simple survival. 'I got you… you're safe here.'

She felt herself sobbing as she landed back in her body. She held him tight. What she felt she couldn't put into words. He seemed to understand on a level no one else would have. He didn't stop what he was doing, but he was gentler. He let her cling to him as his manner shifted becoming soft, tender, but no less passionate. Jackie was overwhelmed again by the shift in her understanding. The person she mimicked was nothing like the person she was finding herself with. It was that his soul had built up layers of protection and she was being pulled into those layers, seeing deeper into who he was without changing who he'd become. She couldn't describe how or why, but Riddick had let her open his shields and then he enclosed her within them. What they had together nothing could break.

His gradual build-up led to a long, leisurely, visit to that realm of bliss. Jackie floated there, mingling with him, content to just be. Her return to her body was rather relaxed also. She molded to him and just sat there, peacefully. His breathing was slow and even. Jackie slowly turned her attention to the controls. Now she could focus on what he'd been trying to teach her. "Riddick, you awake?"

"Yeah, babe." She smiled before going over out loud what she remembered from the earlier lessons. He indicated where she was right, corrected where she was wrong and took full advantage of her desire to learn by teaching her new things without drawing attention to the fact that it was new. It was a useful way to pass the time.

They fell into a rhythm, napping, snacking, playing, piloting, working out, and training together. Jackie went through it all in a state of elevated exhilaration the source of which she could not pin down. She had never felt so safe, so alive, so wanted. Much of the time Riddick didn't even have to say anything to her; just a look or a motion was enough for her to know. Their symbiosis grew and developed along lines that aided their ability to compliment one another's fighting aptitude, making them seem to swirl together in a beautifully lethal acrobatic dance. He taught her everything he knew from his days at the academy and all that he'd learned in prison. Although he'd started teaching her quite a ways back, everything gelled now that Jackie could sense more of where he was physically and mentally. She no longer worried that he was going to leave her.

"Jackie, you about ready to crash this boat?" Riddick finally asked one day as she came out of the shower.

"Is it that time?" She watched him as he walked up and wrapped his arms around her waist. Jackie kissed his nose. "We have to slow down, you know that." He nodded and planted his lips on hers. "So, shall we?" she asked once he pulled back even though she'd just as well drag him into the room where they slept and remove his clothes. Riddick walked her to the cockpit and took the co-pilot's seat. Jackie sat, "You sure you want me here? I've only been doing this…"

"I want you there." Jackie looked at him and turned her attention to the controls. She took in the scans and plotted several possible routes that might slow the freighter as it crossed the system to the targeted planet, UV6. She scrolled the data over to Riddick's station and waited for him to look them over. "Last one looks good. Best chance of survival." He reached over and squeezed her hand, "That's why I wanted you there, babe." He couldn't beat her computer skills…


	25. UV6

**A/N**: Chapter Features: Sex, cussing, crashing, and monster hunting... I rely a great deal on two sources for this chapter: _The Hunt For Riddick_ web-based game from the COR movie site and _Escape From Butcher Bay_ for PC. UV6 is also shown in COR and the novel of the movie. I've taken some liberty with the planet and system for efffect in this chapter as the data on UV as a solar system is scarce. But enough rambling... Enjoy Chapter 25!_ **  
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**UV, Planet 6**

One thing that Richard B. Riddick, or Amadak as his Furyan brethren often whispered to him in his dreams, had learned was that there were differing values of cold. There was the bland dusty gray cold of Cryosleep with its endless confusion due to the lack of awareness of the passage of time. And there was the natural cold of planetary winter. Then there was the mechanical cold of prison mines and mechanized spaceports, not to mention the total, impersonal, cold of deep space. But this was something altogether new. The approach to the system UV was unnaturally cold. It was so much so that he found himself entertaining the oddest of thoughts.

It went like this: if one could imagine space as warm then perhaps the star they approached was of the sort that sucked heat instead of releasing it. Like an unusual black hole that sucked heat and gave of ultraviolet radiation in return, perhaps. He doubted that such a thing existed, which was why he considered the idea a flight of fancy. He couldn't deny that everything about the system seemed colder that the space outside it. Even the colors of the planets were cool, as was the faint glow from the sun they orbited.

The UV system consisted of a large number of gas giants, and about half that number of rocky, or icy, worlds, plus moons. More moons then a single solar system had right to have, really. Yet for all the dozens of gas giants and uncounted numbers of moons, the readouts indicated that there was one habitable planet and that the life clung on in sheer determination through a cosmic winter that never changed. The other planets closer to the star were blasted with such strong ultraviolet radiation that no life was possible at all. Those further away lacked water. Of all the systems in the universe, this one was the least likely to be visited by anyone looking for an easy life.

The freighter speeding inward toward the sun was just as cold and lifeless in appearance as the system seemed to be. Not even the engines put off any sign energy anymore. But that was all right, the man inside the ship figured. Looking lifeless, dead, cold, might be just the thing that kept them alive and hidden from their enemies both real and imagined. He and his mate weren't looking for an easy life, but a free one. Avoiding those that wished to remove them from that life was worth the struggle. To that end even life support on the ship was scaled down to the limited areas that he and Jack still used. They kept layers of clothes on most of the time to ward off the chill now that the stolen Korvan ship coasted into the final leg of its last journey.

The ex-ranger, turned convict-on-the-run, thought about what had gotten them this far. Yeah, he'd pulled Jack into the control room and had her set the course while they were still outside the system. Neither of them needed to spend all their time actually flying the ship. The computer took care of it, once the half-furyan young woman had hacked it and disabled all the various warnings about being off route and losing speed. They then turned their attention to scavenging everything that might be useful. The started at the back of the ship and carefully stripped out anything and everything that could have a possible use. Then they sealed each finished compartment and turned off the life support to it. Even after moving the most valuable items into the spare crew compartments, knowing that if worse came to worse those areas would be the last to fall apart, the life support was turned off and the doors sealed shut. Now the control room, the hall, the bathroom and a single crew cabin was all that got any air circulation or minimal heat.

They spent busy days as the speeding freighter navigated through the large system around an unusual ultraviolet star. The light, dim and purplish gray, faintly illuminated dozens of planets and moons ranging from clumps of rock to majestic balls of frozen gas. In spare moments both Jack and Riddick found themselves captivated by the views. And there were some extraordinary close encounters as the ship wove through the huge gas giants, spinning on slow orbits through chilled space, as the programmed course attempted to slow the ship through drag. They skimmed the outer cloud tops so tightly that the detail from the swirling icy gases took up the entire screen. Each planet was so old that any heat they'd given off in their planetary youth was long gone. Failed stars perhaps in their own right, massive balls of gas each circled by its own miniature dance of frozen attendants. White and grays and pale shades of ice dazzled the eye against the black velvet of space. The flight path was a crazy one, making a sweep past each gas giant as it slowed the ship on a path to the sixth planet out.

Then one day they left the outer guardians behind, passed over the belt of icy asteroids that marked the boundary between the gas giants and the rocky worlds, and found the ship picking up speed as they passed the system's star. That was the highlight of the trip, the approach of the star itself. Even close up there was little warmth to be had. The light even then was so dim that only a few of the safety screens activated. As they passed UV, they used the sun's gravity to slow them further. The target planet was on the far side of the star with little more than a clump of rock between it and its sun. It was like a white glittering pearl in space. Another two days passed and they entered into a high, stable orbit.

The bronze skinned man snapped himself back to the present. The planet he'd chosen to make his final home was below his feet, still thousands of miles down. And yet, they had made it this far, and he had kept Jack with him, safe and sound. Once more, he'd trained her and knew without a doubt that she could kick any merc's ass that even breathed her direction. His chest felt a bit like it was going to burst open for a second. He sometimes wondered if the feeling meant that he was ill or something but then it would occur to him that he felt it when he thought of his mate. Jack always made him feel that way. So maybe what he was feeling was – Nah. He pushed the thoughts away. Her presence hovered behind him, with a faint murmur from her clothes that spoke of her physically being there as opposed to the sensation that hovered in the back of his mind all the time. He welcomed the intrusion into his pondering about the universe in general and how they were going to get to the surface in specific.

Audrey Johastein, alis, Jack B. Badd, or just plain ol' Jack, watched her man as he stood stature still at the window. She was still not used to seeing him with hair, but at the moment he wore a rather plain cut that was just covering his ears. The debate she had going with him was if he should grow his beard or not. She thought he'd look good with one, he thought it would be a bother. Ah, well, the planet would decide. She ran her fingers through her chin-length hair to get it out of her face before slipping up behind him. With a sigh, Jack pressed her body against his, her arms circling him with comfortable warmth. Her chin rested against his shoulder and her nose barely cleared it.

He narrowed his eyes and echoed her sigh. Everything else paled when compared to the reality of his Jack. She knew when he was troubled, or needy, or wanted her, or even when he needed his space apart. He found that he knew her just as well. At the moment her body sang with tense energy, yet she was ignoring it to sooth him. He felt warmer than he had in days with her arms around him and her thoughts totally consumed with easing his mind. He wasn't inclined to move for the longest time. They stood there, watching the planet in the viewport, each unwilling to end the moment. Slowly, his mental turmoil settled and he became more aware of a building physical need. His groin tightened as his thoughts turned to the practice session the day before that ended up with the two of them seamlessly going from wrestling to fucking on the bare floor. That had been glorious. Sometimes he had to admit that Jack had been spot on when she stated that they would get little else done except fucking on just about every square inch of the ship. There was one place though that he wanted to revisit. Riddick pulled away and left the control room with a, "It will be there tomorrow, Jacket. Let's sleep on it." He seemed to be in no great hurry to risk his neck no matter how necessary it might be.

Jack stayed and gawked at the lazy spin on the blue-white orb below them. The thoughts moving through her brain were the sort of thoughts that she denied, even as she shivered just looking at the frozen world. 'What the hell have I gotten myself into?' kept resurfacing no matter how hard she pushed it away. Riddick must have realized that she hadn't moved because suddenly he was behind her, turning her and looking at her expression. "Trust me?" he asked. She nodded without hesitation. "Come on. Let's take a shower, babe." He pulled her into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. Something about his walk should have keyed her into his plan, but as it was she even missed the hardness in his pants until he had her in the bathroom. He suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, "How about we wash those worries of yours away?"

"Wash? Don't you mean fuck, Rich?" She looked at him with a calculating eye. He gave her a sly smile and kissed her, but not long enough to get her worked up. "What do you call that? A Kiss? No, I don't think so," She gripped his collar and pulled him into a tongue wrestling contest that lasted some minutes. She pulled back and gave him a 'top-that, I dare you,' look. He smirked, his lips tingling from her aggressive kiss, his groin throbbing. She smiled with a tempting dare in her eyes. Riddick nearly groaned before he swooped in and kissed her, alternating between exploring her mouth, sucking on her tongue, and nibbling on her lip. When he pulled back, Jack's eyes were glazed with desire and she looked thoroughly snogged.

He knew, one additional deep kiss and she'd loose all control. Sometimes that was welcome, but today he wanted to stay in control. However, she looked so sexy, and, damn it, he wanted her.

Jack was panting, overheated, but riveted on her mate. He had this annoying habit of making her wait, and she hated to wait. Too hazy with desire, stunned with it even, she could do little besides try to regain her senses. Then he kissed her for the third time, deeply, and her world narrowed down to him. Musk, muffled by layers of fabric, too faint for her to be satisfied, heat, dimmed by distance, hard corded muscle under silken skin that she absolutely needed to touch, to feel. His lips and fingers weren't enough, but they were the only things that mattered. She couldn't get his damn clothes off fast enough and she needed more, now.

Although he was little better off, feeling nearly feverish with desire, he helped her by undoing the fastenings that she was fumbling with. He found that she had had his clothes off in a pile before he could get the shower turned on and was occupied with plastering frantic passionate kisses on his neck, shoulder and chest, gradually sneaking downward. He set to work on getting Jack's clothes off as she latched onto a nipple but before she dropped to her knees, because he knew that was where she was heading if he didn't hurry. He turned on the water once Jack was stripped and picked her up to keep her mouth off his manhood. He'd cum too soon if her sweet mouth got that far, and as much as he wanted to be selfish Riddick knew that she needed him inside her more than he needed a quick pop.

She let out a frustrated snort as he whisked her away from the area she was aiming towards, having been near his navel already. His arms lifted her up off her feet and he captured her lips again. She curled her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as she set back to work on his neck and ear.

He let off another groan as her body moved flush against his, particularly where her suckling had left him hyper aware of everything. Her hard nubs teased against his as she moved to reach behind his ear with her tongue. He was too focused on what she was doing to care much about the temperature of the water as he stepped into the shower. It helped that she was between him and the spray though, in that regard. He curled his hands against her buttocks and kneaded the flesh there before beginning to finger her.

Jack squealed as the very cold drops pelted her skin, as much from the shock of the cold as from the feeling of his fingers working into her from such an unusual angle. She wiggled upwards and let out another cry as he caught her clit between two fingers and pinched it. She broke into a tirade that had nothing to do with his harsh handling, "Ah, cold! Damn it, you bastard --" He shut up the flow of words with a breath-stealing kiss that lasted through her hitting him. The sting didn't deter his fingers as they begin to work their way inside her again after he pinned her to the tile wall. He could feel her shudder against him as he stroked the spot inside her that made her swell and drip liquid heat. He moved from that spot to fingering her backside as he slid home. She let out a passionate moan that echoed off the hard walls, ripping her mouth away from his in the process. "Ah, Gods! More!" came the breathy order.

He slowly slid out and hovered, just the tip in. She clawed at his shoulders and tried to move to him but couldn't because of how he was holding her. She arched and dragged her nails over his arms. He begun to move with a slow, deep pace driving her to distraction and enjoying every moment of it. Jack clung to his body and he relished the feel of her muscles playing under his. This was bliss. Nothing else mattered as long as he had her.

She moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders. The sharp pain mingled with his intense pleasure. He licked her arched throat as he moved his mouth up to her ear, "Give me more, Jack," his husky voice tickled against her awareness before he began to suckle on her earlobe. Understanding that he needed to contrast of sensations she dug her nails in deeper until he grunted. She bit and sucked hard enough to mark his flesh as hers. He took his time, making the experience one that they could both never forget. Not that Jack could forget anything about him. He could be wildly passionate at times, matching her usually frantic need and totally unflappable at others. This time no matter how much she pushed he wouldn't be rushed. Instead he strung out her climaxes like a string of pearls, glittering against his awareness.

He made himself want to be with her on the other side so badly that he could taste it before he finally sought his release. Once there, Jack swirled around him in her perfect brilliance, totally matching his darkness and making him complete. They hovered, timelessly, on the brink of forever longer than they ever had before. Neither of them wanted to leave. But they had to. They returned to their senses. Jack was trying to cut off her tears. Richard kept his face soft, the expression he only wore for her, as he washed them both up. Then he carried Jack into the only clear crew cabin and settled them both into the cot. She snuggled into his warmth. They slept.

In the 'morning' or as close to morning as one could get while in high orbit around an alien world, Jack opened her eyes and discovered Riddick looking at her with his quicksilver eyes. She offered up a smile and he half returned it before giving her a gruff, "Get up. We gotta ship to crash."

"Well, fuck," she threw off the covers and took the clothes he was holding out to her. Thick insulated quilted items that had been inside the supplies from Imam. She made a grimace. They were crashing today. That was the reality of the situation. Her final exam was at hand. She carefully dressed and focused her attention inward. They had to survive this. Of course, if they died that would be fate and there was nothing she could do about it, but – no – They had to live. They'd come too far to die during this risky procedure. She took a shaky breath and forced open her eyes when she realized they were closed. There was a large hand holding a can of insta-meal in front of her nose.

Richard shook the can lightly making the liquid inside slosh until Jack took it from him. As he silently moved out of the room, he heard the can pop open and his mate begin to drink. The quiet darkness of the hallway calmed his nerves and allowed him to set his mind into the belief that they'd survive the coming day. He paused at the door and eyed over the orb below them as if it were an animal that needed to be brought in line and tamed. Of course the planet below them had no idea… With a faint smirk, he settled into the co-pilot's chair and looked over the readings as he waited for Jack to join him. She did so with barely a whisper from her puffy clothing. His jacket settled into his lap. Jack gave him a grin; "You forgot your coat, oh-huge-man-of-mine. I think you might want it once we get down there." Then she held out his goggles, "And these too, although we might only need them as a backup at high noon." He snatched the black goggles from her fingers with a matching grin.

He watched as she slid into her seat and looked over the computer's attempts to pull them away from the planet. His monster was the planet; hers was the ship. She frowned. "Stupid redundant safety measures. I thought I had this all ironed out, but there must be a backup memory core somewhere." She slowly hacked her way through the new safety checks that had popped up during the night as each came up… And to make matters worse, the computer kept changing the flight data back to "safety parameters" every time she set them on a collision course. For a span of 30 orbits Jackie struggled as the computer disregarded her orders and maintained it's currently stable setting. It gave Riddick a breather that he wasn't sure he wanted.

In his mounting frustration, he came to the conclusion that he knew how he'd handle a stubborn ship like this one – rip out its guts or simply force it into a manual dive. He thought about telling Jack to just take the computer off line and decided to let her figure it out. Jackie made a face and looked at him, "I'm all out of ideas, save disconnecting it stupid thing." Riddick gave her a surprised look and shrugged. She looked at him. Then she closed her eyes with a measured slowness; "I've implanted code that should seek and destroy anything that might even hint as being a safety override, and by now there shouldn't be any. I'm starting to think that the settings are hardwired, and we can't afford to lose control by ripping stuff out." He just looked at her with an 'And what should you do about that?' look. She groaned and rolled her eyes at him. "Don't. You've been thinking that I should just rip it apart already… you know you are still a jerk sometimes." He laughed. She finally pulled off the lower panel and physically took care of the problem by taking the override off line. That action meant that everything had to be done by hand. She had just re-secured herself to her seat when he nodded at her, then turned on the engines and directed the nose of the ship downward. "Riddick! No," she scrambled to turn the engines back off, "We're already moving too fast! What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Crashing this goddamn boat, Jack. I'll force it down, if I have to, but I won't stay in orbit like a beacon screaming out our location." He turned the engines back on and glared at her. "Trust me, okay." That was an order. Jack clinched her jaw and nodded. Riddick watched her out of the corner of his eye. "Focus on the emergency steps that we went through, babe. It's just clockwork from here. Just a nudge from the engines to put 'er in an unstable orbit and then gravity will do the rest, alright?"

"Yeah. I got it, Riddick. Let's do this." Her voice was steady. There were no hints of childhood left in it. He'd tempered her into something strong and powerful. He turned his attention back to the controls and let the engines push the ship into a dive that it couldn't possibly pull out of.

The frozen planet came up all too fast for her taste. She tamped down her panic and began to go through the steps they'd drilled to the point that she had been dreaming them for a while. Riddick fought to steady the ship, reversing the engines against the pull of the planet in order to drop them back into safe descending parameters, but the freighter was not meant for stressful planet-side landings. His entire body vibrated with the effort for a moment before emergency lights and buzzers sprang to life. The chaotic chatter added to the already nerve-wracking task at hand. While Jackie fought to concentrate on the readouts Riddick just lost patience with the noise. He let go of the controls and even as the ship went into a spiral, dropped down under his console to sever the connections necessary to silence the alarms. A final warning light indicated that they were in an unstable orbit. He heard Jack mumble, "No shit, Sherlock," as she whacked at it with a hand. It blinked franticly at them like the ship itself was scared of the ground. Riddick snorted as he slid back into his chair.

The backup system attempted to kick in one final override and showered Jackie with sparks before giving up, "You okay, babe?"

"Yep, just fine. A bit smoky, perhaps, but not on fire. You?"

He laughed, "No sparks here. Don't think she likes you babe."

"Stuff it, Riddick," Jack was aware that they were now falling out of the sky. Luckily she remembered the programmed flight path as she tried to force the ship into giving them a chance of survival. "Yeah, you stuff it too," she cursed under her breath at the ship as she flipped switches. Then she realized that the crude job she'd done on the safety override had royally fucked up the emergency airbrakes. She unbuckled from the chair and dropped back to the floor to reconnect it. She kicked at the pedals along the floor. They depressed but did not stick. 'Damn, damn, damn.' Knowing that they needed something she connected the power back to them. She kicked at them again. They were rock solid now, jarring her leg and foot as the stomped at them, but try as she might she couldn't get them to move. "Where the fuck are the emergency air breaks?" she finally screamed. She struck out with her foot at a jammed pedal. The gears groaned and emitted a hollow clang. "Ah, Fuck!" She kicked it again. Nothing happened.

Riddick was back on the controls straightening them out of the crazy roll that the ship had veered into and attempting to hold the ship as steady as physically possible, "Hydraulic control? Try reconnecting…" The ship shook as the outer atmosphere collided with the non-aerodynamic Kovan design. Jackie dropped back to the floor. He could hear her mumbling and cursing as she fought with the mass of wires. Outside the ship things were heating up. He watched the temperature of the hull climb to the point that it was hotter than anything in the system bar the sun itself. "Hurry, Jack."

All the while, something was tickling at Jack's awareness, something that they needed to do at this point to help level out the ship. Oh yeah, the extra weight needed to go. The engines and empty cargo bays for one. She listened to the roar of the atmosphere against the hull and noted that the thrum of the engines was gone, "Purge the engines!" She ordered from inside the console.

That drew Riddick back to his own fight. He glanced at the altitude readings, grunted acknowledgment and toggled the manual purge. Explosions rattled through the ship as the large space drives disconnected and fell towards the planet. The sudden loss of weight sent ripples through the spacecraft that Riddick skillfully dealt with but Jackie felt a momentary weightlessness before thumping her head. "Ouch. Shit…" She clambered back out and kicked at the pedals again. The air breaks deployed one by one with grinding thuds that tested Riddick's control as each panel that flipped open. By this time the freighter streaked white-hot through the frigid atmosphere of UV6. Jackie looked at the speed… the breaks slowed them somewhat but they were still going too fast and gaining speed. "Purging the back cargo bins," she announced shakily as she fed the final set of data into the controls and fought off gripping the seat for dear life. 'Going down…still too fast…I'm gonna die. That's just the fact of the matter. It was good while it lasted. At least I'll die happy…'

Riddick glanced at Jackie. She was white. "Babe, don't give up." That snapped her out of it. "Lose whatever we need to lose. If it's empty purge it." She began looking over the switches and buttons again, running over what he'd told her in her mind. She purged the each of the empty cargo bins in turn until the nose of the ship finally lifted so that they stood more of a chance of landing somewhat intact. Double-checking everything she realized that there were secondary air breaks. She reached up over her head and toggled them into active status before kicking the pedals again and deploying them. The ship jerked like it suddenly had a parachute attached to it. The readings looked much better now. She took a deep faltering breath before buckling into her safety harness. Then she went over the controls again looking for anything else she might have missed. She found more to do, more which would slow the ship as it fell towards the planet's icy surface. Focused as she was on the task at hand, Jack found it easy to ignore the odds that this would kill them both.

Riddick was thankful that Jack was busy and focused on the controls as the planet continued to rush up at them with astonishing speed, given the fact that she had done everything that could be done to slow the ship as far as it could be slowed. For a split second doubt crossed his mind, a faint remnant of the careful child he once was. He pushed it aside. It was too late to be double thinking himself now. He took a deep breath as beside him Jack spun her chair around so that her back was facing the ground, as it became overwhelmingly clear that the ship couldn't _not_ crash. After a second he realized that perhaps that was the wise thing to do, and he secured his own harness as he spun around away from the incoming white surface. They would just have to trust that fate wanted them to survive now. There was a sudden wash of explosive noise, ice cold air studded with sharp fragments, and jerking motion that left them both in insolated darkness.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Urzo watching from the high ridge saw a bright streak of light that grew larger and larger in the sky. The light was brighter than the sun, and it was forced to turn away from this new illumination in the heavens. Then there was a vast noise and a wave of heat that turned the dusting of light snow into crystals of ice across the landscape. The Urzo turned back to where the light had been and noticed a new feature of half-frozen slush in the icy landscape marring the unique fingerprint-like grooved surface. It ambled toward the new source of water, quickly forgetting the bright light that had preceded it.

0o0o0o0o00o0o0o0o0

Jackie sat there for what seemed like forever with her eyes closed. Impossibly, they were still alive. "Babe?" came Riddick's voice floating through the darkness. She noted that it sounded shaken, off somehow. Slightly slurred, even.

Her instincts flared to life, "Don't move, Riddick. I'm fine, Okay? Just stay still." She began to unbuckle herself as he went still. The smell of blood was becoming stronger and that prompted her to snag the first aid kit as she moved over to him. Her boots crunched in the fragments from the window that had been in front of his station. If she'd been in his chair her head would have been low enough that the fragments would have gone right over. But Richard was taller and his head had been exposed slightly above the back of the chair. She could see his hand pressed against the back of his head and blood seeping through his fingers. "Here, I got it," Jack placed her own hand over his and pressed lightly enough to not drive whatever might be in the wound in farther but enough to temper the blood flow. He hissed between his teeth. Jack dropped the kit into his lap, and he immediately opened it, "Gauze." He handed her the pad he'd already opened. "I think there's plexi still in there, Rich."

"Yeah? Deep?" he asked, sounding detached from the situation. "Can you get it out?"

"Snap a cold pack. It's bleeding too much for me to tell." There was a popping sound followed by crunching as he prepped the pack. His snicker made her shake her head, "Ironic, I know. Here we are surrounded by ice and I'm asking for a cold pack. Just hand it over." She lowered her free hand down to take it.

"At least I know I'm not dead," he managed as he passed it to her. "And it could be worse. I could have been facing forward."

"I don't even want to think about that." She closed her eyes as she placed the cold pack over the gauze.

He hissed again. 'Bah, I'm going soft. Its nothing more than a scratch,' he reassured himself. Then he felt the energy that he recognized from Jackie healing him before and the sensation of something slowly moving across his scalp, scraping and cutting under his skin. She soothed its passage after the fact, but that was rather dimmed by the volume of pain he was feeling. He set his jaw and gripped the handholds of his chair. "Oh, hell. Jack --," he whispered. He wanted to pull away or push her off, but he knew in his rational mind that she was helping him regardless of the agony.

She didn't respond until the plexi had made its way into her hand and she knew he wouldn't bleed to death. "I'm sorry, hon," she choked out.

He caught her bloody hands with the sharp plexi and gauze between them, "No, Jack. Don't ever be sorry. It was deep."

Jack smiled at him through her tears, "Nah, not that deep. It hit your thick skull, couldn't get past it, and then couldn't cut your thick skin to get back out." They both let out a faltering laugh. He could feel the dull throb still from the wound, and cold where he had new skin but no hair. He pulled out a moist wipe and cleaned Jack's hands then let her wipe off his head and fingers to remove most of the blood. Although he was feeling lingering pain the overwhelming emotion he had at that moment was giddy joy. They had survived, and they had made it without being attacked or intercepted. All he needed to do now was strip everything off the ship of value and blow what was left to tiny bits. Luckily they had perfect cover and anyone watching them would likely assume that they were dead.

Jack flopped back into her seat, her eyes adjusted to the darkness again. Riddick sat still for a moment more before turning to look at the instrument panel. She couldn't believe that he was checking the readouts on the situation already. If it had been her with that wound she have begged for a shot of painkiller. He hadn't even asked. She watched him carefully. He turned his head and flashed her a wry smile. The happiness just about flowed out from him in huge waves. She cocked her head, "What's the news, Rich?"

He found that he didn't mind her using his first name so much. At least at the moment he didn't. The scanners still worked, reveling that there was quite a bit of ice above them. The ship's hull was still giving off enough heat to keep an air pocket around them. And best of all, the mountain range he'd been aiming for actually had a rocky core. So what if they are 20 feet down? They had made it. Both of them. The joy of it all, the relief of it even, threatened to make him grin like an idiot. Jack would think that his head wound was worse than it had originally seemed if he did that. He fixed his mask back in place and flipped his readings over to her station. "Looks like there's a rocky core on the mountains at the edge of this flow. It'll take some work to get everything there but I think we can do it." He watched her study the data for a moment. She silently let her other questions boil over into her expression before nodding about his assessment of the rock. The mountains would be stable. "I'm going to go outside and see what we need to do to get out of here. Get the most important stuff loaded up, Jack. Overfill the loader if you have to."

Jackie made a face; "There's a second loader in the hold, Riddick. I'll load up both of them once there's air. With any luck most of the vital stuff will fit." He moved with a bounce in his step that was rather new as he went past her into the hall. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she resumed life support in the cargo bay that had been left with stuff in it. She could hear the slide of the emergency ladder and the clang as it hit the floor. Even though she knew Riddick would be climbing it to open the upper hatch she was startled by the loud clank that the hatch made as it hit the hull. Cold air swept into the cockpit. It figured that he'd leave it open. She got up and set herself to packing up the loaders while Riddick's steps hollowly clattered across the upper hull. She could hear the crunching getting more and more distant as he moved away from the hatch.

He paused and looked about the chamber the ship was in. The lower half it was still slushy, the ship somehow managing to not sink further. The back end was just about level with the edge of the ice near the cargo door. Above his head, there was a ceiling, rippled and cracked from impact, above a layer of mirror smooth ice. He reached up and ran his fingers along it. He had about a six-inch leeway. He walked toward the back of the ship and scanned around him. Off one side of the ship a small, persistent wave of heat rose. Likely something was smoldering just under the heat resistant tile. He kicked the layers off to check carefully edging back when the smoldering flared into flames. He looked up and noticed that the heat had kept a fissure open. He wondered if a loader would fit through it. If not then he'd have to set up a pulley system of some kind. He snorted. He'd need a pulley system anyway. He planned on making this a single trip if he could. He turned away and continued to explore.

Finally the cold made her think twice about leaving the way open for him to come back in. She wandered into the hall and climbed up the escape ladder, pulling the hatch closed before moving back to her task. The glimpse of the ice overhead was enough to tell her that it was likely after dark. She tried not to worry. Her mind just wouldn't focus on the work at hand without drifting into the panic inducing thoughts of how she would die if he somehow didn't come back. No sooner did she convince herself that he wouldn't leave her of his own free will did she begin to worry that perhaps he'd run foul of some horrible fate, a wild creature, a deep fall into an icy chasm, or perhaps simply the cold would do him in. But when he came back he seemed rather satisfied with his progress. "What?" She asked.

He patted her on the back before taking the first filled loader out. Jackie shivered as he opened the cargo doors revealing a slick, refrozen cavern-like pocket surrounding the ship. She heard his shiv crunch into the ice several times before he stepped back in and snagged an armload of metal rods most likely meant as a tent supports and several lengths of cable. "Keep grouping stuff together, babe. I'll be back soon." She heard the loader whine as he started it up and moved off into the gloom. His 'soon' was long enough for her to finish packing the second loader. It was long enough for her to package up nearly everything into stacks based on importance. She was getting scared as she tore apart bits of the freighter that might be worth hauling up to the surface.

Riddick moved the loader to where the crevasse loomed above him. He gathered his supplies for the pulleys he needed to put in and climbed onto the packed loader. He used the loader as a steady surface and put in guides for the cable. While the loader wouldn't fit through the last few feet of the ice, Riddick could just fine. It was very cold, subzero, even. He was glad that Jack had insisted he have his coat as he installed the pulleys themselves and threaded the cable. He took a moment to look at the landscape. There was a smooth scar from the ship's impact that went almost to the mountain range. He hadn't been aware that they came so close to it. He considered the loader and the stuff on it. Things that he and Jack needed to survive. He couldn't risk leaving it on the surface. He ducked back down and lowered it to the hull of the ship. They needed some type of sled, something that would move over the ice no matter how heavy it was. The ship had plenty of metal hull that was intact. Maybe they could use that.

Jackie was on her way to the cargo door when he finally dropped down into the hall where the emergency exit was. She heard his entrance and spin with her shiv ready. Riddick chucked. He'd taught her well. She deflated with a sigh, "Don't do that Rich, I'm not as fast a pull as you are and I might hurt you."

"But you didn't, and you were on the ball, Jacket," He mussed her hair and hugged her. "We have a problem, though. There's a way out, but the loaders don't fit. At least not fully packed they don't. I was thinking that we could make sleds or something."

She looked at him. "Well, I suppose we could. Anything else?"

"One of us is going to have to stand guard while the other one is hauling stuff up."

"We could use a scarecrow."

"Not a bad idea, Jack. Not bad at all."

They set to lifting sheets of metal out of the cargo bay floor. Jack came up with the idea to make runners using some of the thin fabric dipped in water that had been allowed to freeze. Riddick was able to form a mold from a pipe that helped them shape the ice. By coating the mold with grease before filling it they could easily slip the runner out once it was solid. The fabric helped strengthen the ice while the ice would melt slightly under the friction and glide on a layer of water. Riddick also showed Jack where the opening was and how it was being kept open. She added fuel to the smolder area and used the heat to melt the water they needed for the ice. Riddick then made a scarecrow and hoisted it up into position. He made sure it was very large and that it carried a strong shock should a creature challenge it. They then begin the process of raising everything they wanted to take with them out of the hole where the ship was buried. It seemed to Jack, as she helped to guide load after load to the top, that they were taking just about the entire ship in pieces. Of course, there was much they weren't taking too.

Riddick came back down once the bulk of the goods were up top. The loaders had to be slightly de-assembled to fit them through the top of the crevasse. He and Jack set to work on each one, working quickly to get them to the surface before something came along looking for an easy meal. He then sent Jack up top with the first loader and orders to put it back together. She cursed at having to work in the subzero cold with little tools and gloves but managed to get the damn machine running by the time he emerged with the second one and took the tools to work on it. Jack set about re-packing her loader and the sleds they made while attempting to figure out how they were going to get the train moving without derailment along the route. Riddick had fewer problems using the tools with gloves on and Jack was glad he hadn't heard her cussing. They worked through the crystal clear night and just as the dim star rose signaling morning they were ready to begin their trek to the jutting peaks.

The only thing left to do was to set the remains of the ship to explode. Riddick told Jack, "Take the lead loader, move it a bit and attach a sled, rinse and repeat, until you have them all. Attach the end loader to the last sled and follow the smooth flow toward the ridge. I'll catch up with you." He packed up the pulleys and all but one cable. He didn't leave her time to argue. As he descended one final time to the ship, Jack rolled her eyes and set to work with the task he'd assigned her. She reused the cable to help string the sleds together. One loader went in front and the other behind, set to the same controls. She then set off carefully down the slick, smooth ice flow. Jack found herself holding onto a cable to keep her balance. She had little experience walking on ice.

Soon Riddick was walking along side the sleds too. Usually he was a bit ahead. She frowned at his ease on the ice. Riddick had no problems with his balance. She shook her head and watched his movements. There was a trick to it she discovered. Copying his movements made each step easier. Soon she was confident enough to move up and down the line watching for trouble. They moved at a slow and steady pace, taking most of the day to clear the ice scar. The grooved landscape between it and the ridge made Jack groan. They stopped for the night and pitched a tent, using as much of their sleds as shelter as they could. Amazingly enough, Jack was sure that the ice was warmer than the air. Near midnight the far end of the trail burst into light and heat. Jack looked at Riddick, "Why don't we keep moving, huh?" It was clear that neither of them would sleep anyhow. He nodded and they set about re-packing things to get over the rough surface.

Near high noon they reached the vertical climb that announced the start of the mountains. "I'll scout ahead, set up the pulleys, and see what I can find in the way of shelter. You set up camp here. It's out of the wind, at least." She couldn't argue with that. Riddick set up the scarecrow again at the likely point where one of the local creatures might venture into the nook they stopped at. Jack moved the loader with the food and important survival gear into a defendable location then proceeded to turn the sled rails into spikes of ice. Riddick set off up the cliff, stopping here and there to set in cable guides. Jack took an empty sled and her shiv on a hunt for blocks of ice and snow to fill up the cracks between them. Using the natural overhang and adding additional ice blocks she formed a supported roof by tilting some of the sleds upright and wedging them into place before packing around them with snow. Because there was no fuel for an actual fire there was no need for a smoke hole. She built the narrow area into a low door and arched the ice blocks carefully inward until she could cap off the roof. Then she made sure that the structure was strong enough to support her weight and packed the top with snow to make it airtight. It was a lot of work, but she fashioned a nice little campsite and had warm food by the time Riddick came back. He looked around with a smile. Jack had used several of the mattresses to make them a ledge for sitting and sleeping, and had a small candle burning for light. That coupled with the wind-free shelter made it seem warm. Jack offered him a steaming cup of soup. "Nice, Jack. If we have to we can camp here for a few days."

"That wouldn't be my first choice. There's something out there with large feet and wicked looking claws if the prints are any indication. That's why I made the entrance so small and put a blanket over it. I'm hoping that the heat won't attract the thing, whatever it is." She settled down on the bench of sorts. Riddick thought about that. It was a good sign in a way. Something that large needed lots of food to survive. If it could live here then they could. He stood up and set his soup down for a moment to move the scarecrow in front of their 'door' and one of the empty sleds behind it. He then picked up his cup and settled down next to his mate.

"I'll deal with the snowman in the morning, babe." He hugged her. Soon the candle was out and they were snuggled up together under mounds of blankets. They kept their under layers of clothes on because the covers couldn't keep out the deep chill. Riddick was glad for his hood, using his coat as a pillow and the hood to keep his head warm. He was glad for Jack, too. Her body pressed tight against his and her breath on his neck as she snuggled down into him. He slept lightly, listening for sounds that would betray any attacker. When he woke, he found Jack already up and cooking. He dressed under the covers and slipped on his coat. The dawn's light made the ice overhead glow faintly. He stretched. "Um, hot – what? Oatmeal?"

"Instant something. Grits, I think, with ham and maple…" Jack handed him his cup. "At least it's hot. Or warmish." She shivered a bit and sat next to him. "The fuel isn't going to last long. I'll need to store anything that will burn. Shit, fat, anything. If I don't the only hot we'll get is raw, freshly killed, hot." He agreed fully. Anything that could burn they would have to place a high value on. "What is your plan for the day?"

He thought about that before answering, "Scout up the hill. Try to find those prints you mentioned. Look for someplace that's solid, like a rock cave. Maybe kill the critter that lives around here." He ate his breakfast before it went cold. Jack let him. Finally he stood up, "I don't want to corral you in, but don't wander far. If I find something I could be back rather quickly."

Jack nodded. "Sure. I can work around here. It'll take near all day to melt us some water."

"Take a section of plexi, some black cloth, and some metal. Make a solar heater. You can use some of the tiles I took off the ship to insulate it from the cold. Use your head, Jacket. You're not stupid."

She chewed on her lip, nodded thoughtfully and replied, "Yeah, I'll do that." He stepped up and kissed her. "See you soon?" She asked. He nodded. After he set off she scrounged up what she needed to make a solar heater and looked for what passed as a sunny place to put it. She finally settled on digging out a bit of the cliff above the shelter to support the contraption and wedged the tiles into place, topping them with a bent section from a sled. She lined it with some of the thin cloth that was dark in color and placed a metal cylinder, carefully wrapped in the same cloth and filled with ice and snow inside that. Then she slid the plexi into place. The cylinder had a tube attached to it that she ran down a tile filled groove into another cylinder where the water should end up, if everything worked. She made sure that the lower cylinder was insulated so that it wouldn't refreeze. Jack looked at the 'solar heater' and wondered how long it would take to actually get some water from it. She stepped back and sealed the groove with tiles and a layer of packed snow to keep the sub-zero air off of it, then turned and screamed at the large, dirty-white, shaggy creature coming at her.

For a moment Jack thought that she was going to die. Sure, she knew how to fight. If push came to shove, she'd defend herself. But this – monster – was not what she was expecting. It was huge, nearly twice Riddck's height, and ugly. Viscous slobber highlighted razor sharp teeth. Horns defended its eyes. Thick fur protected it just as well as its long claws. It was like a bear almost just with more humanoid proportions in the torso. She clutched her shiv and wondered if it was long enough to actually cut through this thing's hide. Then another large, bluish white, but not so shaggy form sprung from some point over her head and hit the creature with both feet and blade, knocking it back and down with a snarl before springing away out of range. Jack sank back against the ice in relief as the creature regained its feet. Riddick was here. Things would work out. The monster looked at her, advanced a handful of steps, and suddenly her mate was on its back bringing it down with a swift, deep, cut to its neck.

"Mine," he growled at the head that went bouncing away from the body under him. Jack blinked at the slow spread of crimson on the ice. Riddick stood up and fetched the head. "This'll make a good warning to any others not to mess with us. Get to work on it, Jack. The fur will be loads warmer than the blankets." He snagged a spare pole and worked it into the ice before fitting the head onto it. Jack moved forward and mechanically set to work with her shiv. She was glad for his help when he joined her. They worked to gut, skin, and carve up the beast. Jack made up some of the kill for lunch and then focused on how to preserve the meat and prepare the skin while Riddick went off to look for the creature's lair. She knew that they would need to use every part of every kill if they were going to survive here and there was no room to be squeamish about it. She forgot about the water until it was time to make supper. She was surprised to find that the water in the cylinder was relatively warm. She left it for the moment and went up to refill the solar heater. She had a spare cylinder already filled with ice. It was a fast change out for the first one. Before going inside for the night she filled the spare again so that she could switch it out as soon as the other was empty.

Riddick returned after dark, snagging more poles and setting up something outside before coming in and letting the warmth of the shelter revive his mood. Jack handed him a steaming cup of what proved to be instant coffee. Rare enough treat, he figured. "What's the celebration?"

"Um, I love you?" She replied with a shy smile. He looked at her with amusement. "And you saved my life, more than once." She hugged him, "But I'm not sure how dinner is going to taste, so I thought the coffee would be a nice counter for my cooking."

He did laugh then, his chest swelling to bursting with the combined emotion from the day. He wasn't sure what it was, but he was feeling mighty fine at the moment, and he doubted that her cooking was all that bad. "Um, it won't kill me, so that's all good, Jacket. After what we've survived, anything you cook is going to be a gourmet meal," he drank the coffee, "and this is very nice to come home to."

Jack blinked then felt the heat in her cheeks, which seemed to make the entire situation even more embarrassing. She was unsure why his words would make her blush, but something about his coming back to a ice-block half-hut camp and calling it home felt, well, intimate, nice, and – solid. He was saying he loved her, without actually saying it. She hugged him tighter, "I'm glad to report that the solar heater worked. I was actually able to get the stew to boil because the water was warmer. And there's enough food for us to eat what we want without worrying about later. I even heated up some flat bread."

He moved over to the mattresses and let her fill him a plate. The food was wonderful, rich and meaty with just the right amount of added grains and dehydrated veggies added to make it seem like they had eaten more then just the local wildlife with boiled water. He ate until he was full, and enjoyed every bite. "Jack, don't ever say you can't cook. That was the best meal I've had in a long time."

She placed the remaining stew into pockets of bread and wrapped them up in foil. The food would be cold in the morning but by placing it between two of the insulating tiles perhaps it wouldn't be frozen. She wished that they had real fuel for a real fire so that the coals could keep the food warm, but at the moment all they had was canned-heat camping fuel. "Thanks. It's good to know, really. I mean, you are stuck with me."

He caught her hand and pulled her into their bed, "I wouldn't have it any other way." He then showed her exactly how much he enjoyed being 'stuck' with her.


	26. Toombs and the Making of A New Animal

**A/N**: Slightly updated to bring the scales into line with each other for the time in Cryo. **Warning: This chapter has a rape scene.** Um, right. I still don't own :-(

_A Passage: 26_

**Toombs and the Making of 'A New Animal'**

Carl Johastein was the sort of man that got what he wanted. He wasn't used to dealing with those who felt otherwise in any other fashion besides a runaway steam engine. Only one man in the 'verse dared to continually thwart him, and that man was currently flying low, under the radar, presumed dead. He had to wonder why, sometimes, his obsession with his near son, Richie, could make him go to such extremes as landing on the merc infested rock of Lupus 5. And speaking of mercs, here was the one that claimed to have seen the boy – or man, rather – personally. He narrowed his silver-blue eyes as the unshaven, unwashed, rough-around-the-edge fellow that walked up in front of him.

He looked at the merc going by the name Toombs. One thing and one thing only would make Johastein deal with this sort of scum, the possibility that Richie, his one time head of security, might still be alive somewhere. The merc put out his cigar stub and brushed himself off. "I know this is kinda old intel, Mr. Johastein. But if you look at the backup files I saved -- these images are a perfect match." The ill-mannered fellow offered up a data padd that had hacked Kovan records on it alongside the company data that Johastein had provided from his personal files. If it weren't for the fact that this meeting had to be under the table, someone else would be here doing this. Still, Toombs had been bragging that he knew the guild had made a mistake and that Richard B. Riddick was alive. Johastein took the padd and looked at it. There was no doubt in his mind that the man was telling the truth, now. He knew this was Richie. How in hell had he managed to pass himself off as Marcus Smyth? A light went off in his head. Little Audrey. Of course.

The possibility that his 'daughter' was using her illegally honed skills to hack into, and wreak havok with, universal wide databases for Richie's benefit was an alarming one. There would be no stopping them if they decided to take him to point. He narrowed his eyes at the image in his hand. It was time to play his hidden card. He looked up at the merc who was waiting casually, "I've got a deal for you, Captain Toombs. I'll pay you up front, after a fashion, and make sure that the guild reimburses you for the balance, if you are right. And I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. This looks like him. And I see that the images are from after his so-called death." He handed the device back to its owner before motioning for Toombs to follow, "I think I've got something that will aid you in your quest, if you are willing to work for your pay."

Toombs for his part was aware that Johastein did not like anyone that appeared smarter than he did, and although he disliked the man's attitude he knew that someone with Johastein's kind of power could have any size chip on his shoulder that he wanted. Besides, the man was willing to make the guild pay out every last bounty for Riddick if he was brought in and Toombs knew Johastein would see that it happened. That would make Toombs a very rich man, and rich was good. He put on his meek face and followed his 'superior' into the next room where his eyes landed on something he thought he'd never see again, in spite of the fact that she haunted his dreams all these many months later…

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The plain man in a formal tan suit approached the door of the multi-story dwelling that he knew was the home of Imam Abu al-Walid. His arrival on Helion Prime had been uneventful; something he hoped would remain true for the remainder of his current route. He had an aversion this part of his job but the insurance claim needed to be delivered. Due to the situation, both with the high amount of the money and the standing of the parties involved, meant that he was doing this in person just to verify that it had been done and that the company could wash its hands of the matter. A vid-card would have been easier, but the Imam deserved a more personal touch. He knocked and waited. After a moment a beautiful woman dressed in a cinnamon colored tunic and coordinating striped loose pants opened the door. He was momentarily startled by the graceful swell to her middle, "Mrs. – al-Walid? Is the Imam home? I'm Duane Spencer, from Sun Corp Insurance Group. There's been an – well, we located Mr. Smyth's ship. I think you might want to be sitting…"

Lajjun knew that on some level Abu had been expecting this, so she was not overly startled to have this man at her door. At six months pregnant, she wasn't sure that this was exactly the best of times though. Her heart sank as she realized the hidden implications of the man's presence on her doorstep. If Smyth had perished then Jack had as well. Still, it wouldn't do to jump to conclusions. She smoothly stepped aside and motioned toward the archway, "Please come in, Mr. Spencer. I shall inform my husband that you are here. Why don't you help yourself to some tea in the sitting room?"

Mr. Spencer thanked her for the offer and moved into the indicated room as she walked into her husband's study. After a moment the holy man joined him in the sitting room and his wife followed to pour her husband tea. Abu studied the young man for a moment and then said, "My wife is under the impression that you bring bad news, Mr. Spencer. I am well aware that Marcus Smyth took out insurance with your company in case there was another error in his getting to Aquila Prime similar to the one he suffered getting here. I believed at the time that he was being paranoid." The look on his face was grave and pained as he waited.

"Err. Um, well. I think that it was a beneficial thing that Mr. Smyth bothered to take out insurance, however things have turned out, sir." He really did hate this part of his job because it never got any easier, "I regret to say that Mr. Smyth's ship turned up at an Aquilan automated outpost nearly a parsec off course. Life support was down, and the body found in cryo was decomposed so badly that we couldn't make a full ID. Still, the company feels that in light of everything that Mr. Smyth had gone through that the claim should be paid to his next-of-kin. He designated that party to be you." He heard the Imam's wife sob and hastily leave the room. Duane wanted to complete this and be gone; "Here's your draft, Mr. al-Walid. I'm very sorry."

Imam took the slip of paper. The amount was far more than he thought was proper, considering that he suspected it was fraudulent. He held his tongue, relieved that he could at least do something to help others with the money. "Please forgive my wife. She is slightly emotional these days even when she isn't hearing that her friends have died. Thank you for the personal visit, Mr. Spencer. Most other insurance companies leave video recordings and make one jump through hoops to collect. I'll make sure that I spread around to my contacts that your company is the one to seek out when they need it."

Mr. Spencer stood, shook the holy man's hand, and let himself be ushered out onto the street, "Thank you, Sir. I do hope your wife is okay," but discovered that he was speaking to an already shut door. Ah well. At least that was over and he could head back to the hotel until he needed to catch his next flight.

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She'd been having dreams. Not sweet, pleasant dreams, but borderline nightmarish dreams that had her confused about not only her age but also her location. Some part of her was aware that there were things in the dream that were memories. Most made little sense to her, being snatches of a broiled desert world with three suns in the sky and memories of being asleep for long periods of time, combined with snatches of people in lab coats peering down at her through a hazy surface. She wasn't sure which bits were worse, actually. Neither seemed totally real. The one thing that she wanted above all else was to wake up from whatever she was trapped in. After an unknown time of fighting she sensed the fog lifting and struggled toward awareness.

The blue-eyed girl with the mental identity of Jack woke up in a cryo-tube. She put her hands on the glass. 'What the hell? How did I get here?' Here was a far cry from her last memories. Where dust and dirt and dry heat just seconds ago had surrounded her, she was now incased in moist cold, slick and sterile. She'd sought out shade from unending daylight but her eyes now focused on square white lights placed in a white ceiling. She'd hidden that she was a girl under tight bandages but could feel that she was unbound and exposed. The jarring differences made her want to close her eyes and go back to sleep on the off chance that this was part of the dream she'd been having. Instead she blinked and focused on her last memory: the abandoned settlement, three suns, and fearing that Johns was going to recognize that she'd stolen his wallet. That she knew was real, no matter how she'd gotten here.

If her eyes weren't playing tricks with her, she was not on that world anymore. In the memory she was standing, no, exploring a darkened room, blowing dust off various objects and trying not to cough from the burn in her lungs. She'd not been able to take a clear deep breath for hours, without the breather in her mouth, at least. Now she was lying down, and her senses screamed at her that she was naked but for the gel like moisture around her. She could breath and her lungs didn't burn. There was no dust anywhere near her. She started to hyperventilate. Her mind supplied helpfully that she must be in a ship someplace, or perhaps a medical lab like a burn unit. The fluid around her didn't keep her from breathing but adjusted to her panic and she felt artificially calmed like there was some drug seeping into her skin designed to keep her feeling disconnected from her surroundings. This turned out to be a good thing as shadows fell onto the tube she was incased in.

Johastein watched the timer on the cryo tube blink, indicating that the figure inside was waking. He paused as the merc behind him froze, eyes glued to the woman inside. "Do you recognize her, Captain Toombs? This is my daughter, Audrey. She ran away from home nearly three years ago. I've been trying to track her down and figure out why she left. Perhaps your experience will give me some clues?"

Toombs eyes never left the figure floating with nary a stitch on in the slick pale blue-green gel, "Ah, well. I did see her. In fact I saw her on the Kubla Kahn. She was running with Riddick. I'd never forget a face like that one…" his voice drifted off as intense sky blue eyes bored into his. They were just as intense as the ones he remembered in his dreams but they were – the wrong color. The amber eyes floated through his mind again in deliberate contrast to the ones focused on him now. He was struck with an undeniable possibility, one he wouldn't dare voice, "Holy, Sweet, Mother of Jesus!"

Carl was watching the merc. The man was smart. Smart enough to play dumb until shocked into revealing his intelligence. "Ah, I see that you understand that this is not actually her, Captain. No, it is not the same woman you saw then, but I think having her around might allow you to track where Riddick has disappeared. Those who know him might be more – willing to let things slip if they believe Audrey was left behind. I suspect that she's with him still, whereever he's gone."

She was aware that the two men paused about three feet away were talking by their body language. They seemed wary of each other, and one of them was intensely focused on her. She could feel his eyes like weights. The men walked up to the tube, and the cleaner cut one looked down at her. She let out a startled gasp as she recognized him. It was Pops. The man who had killed her mother with his callousness, who had made her short life hell, who had raped her with his nightstick after viciously beating her. She wanted to claw her way out of the tube and put space between the hand the rested casually on the curved glass and her body, but the drugs in the gel instantly soothed the impulse. Being as she couldn't do anything about Johastein she looked at the other man.

She did not recognize the scruffy fellow but his eyes spoke that he recognized her. There was a flash of shock as some other thought occurred to him. Jack wanted to frown at his expression but her face wouldn't comply. She could read the man like a book. He was a classic merc by his dress and manner, rude and crude. Memories of hacking into the Company database for some of Pop's 'friends' to earn her mother's morphine circled her brain. That was over now, and she was positive none of them had been this man. She was revolted that he could look at her like he knew her. She had no memory of him at all. He mouthed, "Holy, Sweet, Mother of Jesus!" as he looked over her nude body. Jack felt herself turning red. The fellow was scum. She had no idea what Pops was gonna do. He was keeping his face away from her. The men talked for a bit more before Pops motioned to someone else that she couldn't see. Likely one of the lab technicians she remembered from her dreams. The liquid drained out and the lid opened. Jack still could not hear well, her ears popping from the pressure change.

"Audrey? Do you know who I am?" Carl Johastein begun. The girl didn't look at him.

The tech spoke up, "I would imagine that her ears are rather clogged, Mr. Johastein. Perhaps if she were looking at you?"

He gave the tech a nod, reached into the tube gripping her arm hard and forcing Jack into sitting up. Then he caught her chin and turned her face, "Audrey? Do you know who I am?"

She noted the artificially concerned expression first. It was not like he really cared about her, after all. She was just a means to an end. She blinked and focused on his lips as they moved, his voice came through to her as muffled and faint. Jack made to nod but his hand kept her wet, weighted down, head still, so she spoke instead, "Yeah. – Pops?" He let go of her face but kept a tight grip in her arm. He was acting; she knew it. Perhaps if she acted like the rape had never happened he'd reveal something, "How did I get here?"

Johastein nodded to the tech to send her away. He could handle the defiant youth from this point. "You ran away from home. Remember?"

Oh boy, did she remember? The vivid images of the nightstick, the bloody sheets, the raw fear...all came back to her in force. Of course she remembered! It hadn't been the answer she was fishing for however. How was she to figure out what was going on? Jack twisted her arm in his grip and played dumb, "I did? Why would I do that? I loved taking care of my brothers and sisters."

The reply made Johastein pause. It had been explained that the girl might not retain all her memories. In fact it was possible that she wouldn't remember any of them. The physical reaction she was having was what he expected, but her words made him wonder. Did she not remember her last months on Sigma 3? He decided to test that out, "Your mother and I talked it over, Audrey. And we decided to let you join up with the Mercs' Guild just like you wanted." Jack looked at Johastein in disbelief. "I imagine that the nasty bump you took to the head had unforeseen consequences, love. One of the things you said when my men picked you up off the Kubla Kahn was that you didn't want to come home when you could have an exciting life of your own. Have you changed your mind?"

Jack felt confused. She'd been rescued? Injured? Healed? She guessed it made sense. It explained the gap in her memories. Had she really wanted to join the Mercs' Guild? She couldn't remember. But anything was better than going back to the hellhole that was Sigma 3 as Johastein's whore and being pimped out in the mine pits. For some reason he was letting that plan go and offering her a choice. She chewed on her lip for a moment, "No… No, Pops. I've not changed my mind. I just don't recall the conversation."

"Ah, that's to be expected, Audrey. Some of the memories should return with time. Don't worry about it, okay? I went and checked out the various crews looking for the best people to place you with. This man is the best," he indicated the scruffy merc. "He's got an impeccable record and can teach you how to be part of a successful team. Once more, Captain Toombs has agreed to let you sign on with his crew, Audrey. Do what he says, when he says it, and he'll give you a decent cut while teaching you the trade. Isn't that right, Mr. Toombs?"

Toombs had to settle his flipping heart. Johastein was actually turning the girl over to him. They'd sign a contract of course, and Toombs had the perfect forms for it. He'd been promised pay up front, of a sort, and guessed that this was it. He'd make sure that she belonged to him before they left the merc port. "Sure thing, Mr. Johastein. I'll take the kid on. She looks plenty tough to me." Jack looked at Toombs with her bright blue eyes. He could see the shock there, and the knowledge that her life wasn't her own to do with as she pleased. Good. She'd be less of a problem that way. He raked his eyes over her body one more time. Sweet and young, untouched and hot off the presses. He wanted to sink his 'cigar' into her box and drill her through the floor, just like he'd dreamed of doing to the amber-eyed angel haunting his dreams. That would have to wait until after the papers were signed. Hell, he'd have to wait until they were in space and he was sure she wouldn't turn his crew on him. "Damn, you are right pretty, lass." He removed his vest and tossed it at her. She caught it and slipped it over her shoulders. At least it would cover most of her torso. She scrambled out of the tube as the merc said, "Welcome to Lupus Five, kid."

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In the months that followed, Jack discovered while Toombs jealously guarded her body from other interested parties and went out of his way to teach her enough about fighting, gunplay, and how to approach runners to be useful, that he was more engaged in keeping her as a workhorse than really turning her into a top star merc. Maybe it was the thought of her striking out independently as competition to him that made him treat her like shit, but she rather thought that it was because he was scum and that Johastein had been talking out his ass when he'd called Toombs the 'best'. The old boys on the crew all knew that she was Toombs personal domain. None of them even dared to look at her funny much less bother to teach her anything. She'd gone out on several low-profile cases and managed to survive to bring the bounty in, which was more than she could say for some of the other crew. But Toombs had yet to pay her more than a handful of UD's insisting that she was being paid in gear, food, and a place to sleep without having to screw him for it. And she should be thankful that he bothered to give her pocket change, god damn it.

One conclusion she had reached was that Lupus 5 was a burrow of shit-faced gamblers and down on their luck mercs. Toombs was there because labor was cheap to come by and his crew always had a fairly high turnover. So while she was thankful for the training she itched to get off planet and away from her keeper.

Toombs current crew was pilling loads of gear at the base of the ramp to his C-19 undercutter. It was a smallish craft with had room for seven crew and two bounties, but could be flown by a single pilot. The supplies she was loading were various guns and ammo, securing equipment, heavy ground to ship rocket launchers, emergency rations, and assorted medical kits. The cryo systems and fuel were loaded automatically. The real jewel of the craft was the shield system that could make it nearly invisible to most detection systems and the naked eye. Jack was the 'computer specialist' due to her hacking skills but was only allowed access to the computer when Toombs was standing over her shoulder. Most times she respected his boundaries and thus was the only crewmember allowed inside the ship without supervision. This translated into being the only one trusted with loading the ship without Toombs being right there. That suited the rest of the crew just fine, because it meant that they could drop their gear off and she would put it away while they went off to drink, gamble, or fuck. Not that she gave a shit.

She paused on the ramp and wiped some of the loose curls off her face. The brown waves were irritating when she was sweaty. For some reason it seemed more unruly than she remembered it being. She couldn't shake how strange it was that her hair was as long as it was either. She'd cut it just a few weeks back and it was already in her face again. It was growing like a goddamned weed. The replacement crewmembers ogled her as they dropped their stuff at her feet because Toombs wasn't in direct eyesight. "Stare at someone else before I remove those pretty green eyes, Curly," she snarled at the bolder one. His companion settled his gear down and moved swiftly away.

The youthful looking merc grinned at her, "Ah, I think it turns you on, little girl. I bet you want some…" A cleared throat announced the captain's return. For once Jack was relieved to see his scummy face. "Just teasin' boss," Curly made like he was innocent before commenting , "Look at her blush." She narrowed her eyes at him at glared, her face heating as her temper rose. Jack's face was red, but with anger.

"Get the fuck away from my computer hack before I feed you your worm-like dick!" Toombs didn't have to take his gun out to make his point. Curly darted off. The captain looked at the tender young flesh shaking with rage, "And you!" he snapped, "Get your pussy in gear. Get those supplies loaded, chit! I'm not paying you to stand around and look pretty." He swung a switch at her and snapped it near her head.

"Sure, boss," she ground out. Jack picked up the nearest box and stiffly carried it into the cutter. She hated everything about her life. Nothing was going right. Toombs was an ass. His crew was just as bad. The training was barely enough to survive by and every moment spent under Toombs' wing was a moment of being intensely aware that he was itching to fuck her. He'd told her as much. If she wanted a full cut she'd have to spread her legs and let him have his way with her. Otherwise she was his apprentice and as such he didn't have to pay her shit. 'Bastard,' she mentally chanted as she carried load after load into the ship and put them away.

After all the time that had passed there was one major thing that bothered Jack more than how Toombs treated her. Her memories of the last year and a half before she'd woken up had not returned. Her dreams centered on that dusty darkened room with its stifling heat like some clue had been left there, something important, but she couldn't figure out what it was. Beyond that her mind was blank and empty. Most of the time she wasn't confronted with things that threw it in her face so she ignored it. But she still had to wonder what had exactly happened because something was off. She supposed that the missing time was like being in cryo. That wasn't too bad. But then Toombs had showed a clip of people being rescued from a ship he identified as the Kubla Kahn. He declared that he'd been there when she was rescued along with Carolyn Fry, Imam and a man he stated was a 'Mr. Smyth'. He said he was doing her a favor showing her the blurry clip, and that she was not to mention it to anyone else. As far as she knew the brown haired woman in the clip could be her, just as the blonde one could be Fry. The images of Imam and Smyth were different though, almost too clear, like they were pasted in. Then there was the story Toombs had fed her about how Smyth had injured her and fled… but why? Because Smyth was Riddick? If she'd been on his side why did he attack her? And why was there no footage of it? It just didn't add up.

She was on her way back down the ramp to pick up still yet another box of ammo when the most grating voice hit her ears, "Where are we going, Captain?" One look revealed the base's cigar chopping whore leaning suggestively on Toombs' arm like she was half drunk. Toombs didn't seem to mind, and was eyeing over the revealed cleavage like a starving animal. Jack made a face and groaned slightly when she noticed the loader floating along behind them. Apparently Toombs had found his pilot.

"New Mecca. I got a lead that Riddick's been back there. And we'll play the sympathy card and see if the preacher will say where he went."

"Why would that work, Boss?" came the smoke-roughened husky voice of the newest crewmember.

"Because she'll do as I say, and it will. Who could resist this face, huh?" Toombs had stopped right in front of Jack and caught her chin in a dirty hand. "As long as she don't want to end up like her mother, she'll follow orders. Ain't that right, doll?"

Jack nodded as she pulled away, "Yes, boss."

The woman looked her over, sizing up the threat, then turned to Toombs, "I'm positive that you are going to nail this Riddick fellow to the wall of the nearest triple max, Boss. I wouldn't trust anyone else to do it."

Toombs gave the woman a wet kiss and slapped Jack on the cheek; "This here is Betsy. She's a pilot. Load her things, girl. Betsy and I have some terms to negotiate." The loader came to a stop as they moved away. Jack shot his back a glare as she continued loading the heavy supplies into the cutter. Her face stung where he'd slapped her. She hated him almost as much as she hated Johastein.

She heard the burly, well-built woman comment, "Cute kid," as they rounded the corner, Toombs guiding the woman with a hand on her well-rounded ass.

His reply floated back to Jack, "Got her on a bargain bin, a deal with her father. She's working out alright."

Jack shook her head as she turned to store the decoys in the special hatch for them. She knew the two mercs were going off to 'negotiate' over sex. 'God, this place is a pit,' she thought. Betsy's stuff consisted of more guns, a few changes of clothes, some backup navigation charts, and even more guns….

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

They were in space. The other crewmembers were in cryo. Jack was still awake, at least for the next few moments. She'd developed a ritual, composing her thoughts like a dairy before she went under. The current 'entry' went like this: 'Being in a small cutter with three smelly guys and a cigar smoking bitch is not what I'd call fun. We're three hours off of Lupus 5. It's a 90-day trip to New Mecca. Oh, joy…in cryo. I won't be thinking about stuff much, I'll bet. Toombs told me I'm supposed to catch Imam's wife at home and see what she knows. Her name is Lajjun. I didn't even know the holy man had a wife. I really doubt that Riddick would have told either of them where he's off to, but I got no choice. Toombs keeps flipping the 'no papers' thing in my face. Man, I am so screwed. He owns my sweet ass, and there is nothing I can do about it until he says the 'debt' is paid, and I have a Merc license. He owns me. I'm no better off here than I was on Sigma 3… There's nowhere I can turn. He gives me the creeps. Doping up now. Goodbye for 3 months.' With that finished and memorized Jack closed her eyes and let the muddy hovering near-death of cryo take her.

The computer woke the assigned crewmember exactly two hours before the others. There was always a risk that the captain wasn't going to wake up if he wasn't the first one, but Toombs had assigned the task to Jack because he did trust, well not her exactly, but his control over her. She blinked and decided to compose another mental dairy entry. After a moment her mind supplied 'Guess what? Toombs set me up to unhook when gravity kicked in. Funny, I thought Betsy would get that honor. Maybe he doesn't trust her?' She got up and started on the pre-landing checks. The inner monologue continued, 'Anyhow, everyone's stats look fine. So, I got a little bit of time to think about stuff before we land. It occurs to me that this Lajjun might know me better than I know her. Or not, because I have no way to tell. What I'd love to do is slip away from Toombs. Maybe they, meaning Imam and Lajjun, will help me even if they don't know me.' The Helion port buzzed them and Jack looked at the request. Somehow answering them became part of her thoughts, too. 'Um, a light token…Yeah, we got one of those. I'll just punch us in for an automated entry. Betsy should be waking up soon. Ah, hell. Cryo makes me stiff. Some of those stretches Toombs taught me should do the trick. Ah, better.' An urgent message flagged itself as read-now and Jack did. The message was a shock. 'What is this? A wanted poster? For me? I don't remember killing anyone, let alone two people. Who is Chillingsworth? What the hell is going on? Shit, now I'm royally fucked. I gotta do something!'

The sounds of Toombs coming to interrupted Jack's thoughts. She froze half turned away from the screen, too slow to delete the message before he spotted the bold red alert banner. He glared at her and gave her a swipe with one hand as he hastened to unbuckle from cryo,"What the fuck are you doing over there!" He woke up fast and cranky. Toombs grabbed Jack by the scruff of the neck and pulled her away from the Intel screen, keeping a grip on her collar. "Well, would you look at that? An easy 200K, for your scrawny ass. Faster compensation than waiting for your first unassisted capture that's for sure." Jack whimpered in his grip, "Don't you worry, I'm gonna leave you with a lasting taste of Merc life before I turn you over to the 'golls who want your ass. You are too pretty to flip off untarnished." She attempted to twist away and he aggressively spun her around. His hand patted her face making her cheeks sting. "I could let the boys have a taste too. They'd like the extra bonus. Even Betsy wants to smoke a cigar after it's been in you, darlin' on account of the fact that you are so pretty." His eyes wandered over her, his spare hand followed suit, under her clothing. Jack struggled. "Now, now…You find out where Riddick has gone and that 1.126 million 'daddy' is putting up more than covers the 200K. I'll let the 'golls rot. You got one chance to find out where Riddick went. Got it?" His hand was down her pants now; Jack whimpered again and nodded. "Either way, this is mine." Toombs' fingers delved through silky strands and soft moist flesh as he brutally fondled her in the most profane of ways making her feel sick inside.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The landing was easy; Toombs had clearance. Bright, clean, civilized place, Helion Prime, not the sort of place where either Toombs or Riddick would blend in for long.

Jack would have seen the beauty here if she hadn't been so frightened of the pack of Mercs tailing her. She felt dirty from Toombs touching her. Dirty from how the last fella had leered at her. She had put on clothes provided to help her blend in, but she felt out of place. No one in New Mecca noticed her pushing her way through the crowd.

The inner composer was back, 'We're on Helion Prime now. Toombs took me to a contact. I had to cut my hair again. I'm really confused. The guy was calling me "Jackie" and Toombs was laughing about it. I don't know what is gonna happen. The contact wants to tag along to the next stop, I have a feeling that is likely gonna be Kova, by the way Toombs is talking. Yeah, he's going to flip me off for the money no matter what I find out. Should I get inside Imam's house and tell them the truth? Will they believe me when I say I honestly don't know who I am anymore? And even if I manage to convince Toombs to keep me around, he's gonna rape me…. He's gonna do it anyhow….' Jack looked around the busy New Meccan quarter, searching for the address she'd been given. 'He's watching me. I can't run. Even here I have no rights. Oh, hell…I have to pass the Kovan embassy. This is not good.' Jack tried to pass the building without making herself noticeable.

"You, girl. Stop!" One of the 'goll guards moved down to look at her. He was a burly fellow with implants marring what might have been a handsome face at one time. "Your name?"

"Kyra. I've lived here all my life and passed this way a thousand times. What is the problem."

"You've never been off planet?"

"No sir. My father won't allow it. Now if you're finished, I must get to the Imam's house."

"Um…" The guard looked her over again, "you look familiar somehow."

"I told you I've passed this way a thousand times. You have likely seen me before."

"Alright then, child." The guard resumed his post. Jack moved off as calmly as possible. 'Okay, the bluff worked. That was a good call. But still what do I do about Toombs? Maybe I'll try telling Imam's wife…want's her name? Oh, right -- Lajjun. Yeah, I'll tell Lajjun and see if she can help me. Maybe it'll buy me some time.'

The address took her to a nice multi-story home, clean and sheltered, but sitting right on the busy street. She knocked. 'Please, please be home…'Jack could feel the watchful eyes on her back from the mercs behind her, around the corner and on top of the neighboring buildings. 'God, this place has a lot of spots to hide. I know they're out there watching me. Please answer the door…' She could hear footsteps coming closer, a slight tap of heeled shoes on tile. The handle to the door clicked and the door opened. A beautiful dark skinned woman stood on the threshold, blinking in surprise. "Jackie? I thought you left with Mr. Smyth."

"Can I please come in? It's not safe to talk out here."

"Sure, Jackie. Our house is always open to you." The woman stepped aside, "What has happened? Abu was sure you left."

Jack entered and waited for the door to close. "I don't know if I can explain, really. I got myself into some really bad shit. I know that I know Imam, but I'm not sure that I know you. You're Lajjun right?" The woman nodded looking confused, "Yeah, you look about as confused as I feel. I'm not overly sure that I'm the Jackie you know."

"Come sit. Perhaps something happened and you were injured?" Lajjun turned and escorted Jack to a sofa. "It has been many months since I saw you last, Jackie. What is the last thing you remember?"

"From when? I don't remember ever coming here, Lajjun. I had to ask for the address. Some mercs brought me here, thinking I would be able to find Riddick. But he's long gone…That 'Mr. Smyth' you mentioned, huh?"

"Um…Jackie, we all know that Riddick died in the crash. Leave it at that."

Jack felt a chill. She closed her eyes and then looked at the regal woman, "You think I could use the restroom? I really gotta go."

The woman smiled as the sounds of an infant crying floated through the otherwise serene house. "Of course, Jackie. It's right up the stairs at the end of the hall. I need to attend to Ziza so it might be a moment or two before I return. There's fruit in the basket and iced tea in the cooler. Help yourself."

She waited until Lajjun was out of the room before she ventured to locate the restroom. Once inside, she pulled off her clothes and removed the wire. She looked at the offending item for a moment then flushed it down the toilet. Jack smirked and redressed. Maybe this was the opportunity she'd been praying for. With the wire disposed of she returned to the front room and helped herself to an orange. Lajjun returned with an infant that had to be only a few weeks old. Jack stood back up, "Ah, she's beautiful."

"Thank you. Discovering that you were correct about your prediction was one of the happiest days of my life." Lajjun watched the confusion cross the young woman's face as she spoke, "I'm sorry, Jackie. Is there something wrong?"

Jack found herself nodding. "Yeah, everything. See, I don't remember you. I've never been in your house before. And -- Carl Johastein doesn't believe Riddick's dead, Lajjun. He's offering a private bounty of 1.126 million UD's for his capture. The group of mercs that brought me here have a fellow who claims to have seen him after the crash, seen him with Imam, here on Helion!" Jack stood up and paced, the half-eaten orange forgotten, "Don't tell me he's dead! He can't be. Finding him is gonna be my one chance of salvation from this mess. Man, I am so fucked. Johastein will mess me up bad if the mercs don't do it for him."

Lajjun watched her pace for a moment before placing her baby into a sleeper. She stood up and put her hands on Jack's shoulders, "Calm down. You are safe here. Stay here for a while, the mercs will eventually leave. Just stay here. The Company can't touch you here."

Jack started to cry, "I want to, I really do. But there are other problems, Lajjun. The Kovans have a 200k bounty on my head. I don't remember killing anyone! I don't know who these people were! And they tried me without me even being there."

Lajjun hugged her. She was shocked that the girl didn't remember her actions on Kubla Kahn when she'd been so determined to keep Smyth alive. Maybe somehow the two of them had fought and Jack had left him, but that didn't seem right either based on what she knew about the pair. She ran her hands through Jackie's hair, "Listen to me, Jackie. The Kova system's laws don't reach here either. Abu will get you protection. Shush now, it's okay." Jack was guided back to the couch. She cried herself to sleep.

Jack woke up on the couch. Lajjun had left her there with a soft blanket. Imam's somewhat familiar voice drifted through the warmly accented rooms. Jack blinked. Her blue eyes adjusted to the shifted sunlight filtering through the rust draped windows. 'I have to figure out a way to ditch this mess,' She dropped her feet to the floor just as Imam walked into the room. "You're awake, Jackie. How are you?" he asked.

"Not good," she whispered. Jack looked up into Imam's understanding visage and saw something flicker across his face. "I'm not your Jackie, am I?"

He kneeled down in front of her and took her face in his hands, "It is not possible…."

"What, Abu?" Lajjun moved back into the room with a tray of drinks.

"Tell me what you remember from the crash, Jack. The last thing. Think hard about the very last thing you remember," Imam ordered.

Lajjun put the tray down and looked at them both. Jack blinked at Imam. "Zeke died, Riddick was helping us, Imam! How can he be dead?"

"Don't worry about him right now, Jack. Think about the crash." Imam gripped her face tighter but not enough to hurt, "The crash, Jack."

Jack tightened up her lips. "Okay. We were unloading the sled after the decision was made to move to the settlement, your boys and me. And, um, I went to the skiff while everyone was talking about the fact that it was not a star-jumper." Jack frowned. "It's pretty fuzzy. I think I wondered off, I needed a bathroom. Oh, I found some clothes that would've fit me. And Riddick told me to stash my pack in the skiff. Honestly I can't remember much else. I think I found a razor – it had kind of a dull blade. It seemed to pull the hair out by the roots as much as cut it… Damn, did I shave my head?"

Imam raised his eyebrows. "Is that the last you remember?" He watched the young woman's face as she struggled with her memories, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Someone powerful was still after Jack and Richard, even after 'Marcus Smyth' had died. His heart ached for his friends. And this girl, innocent of everything, was caught in the middle of it all, threatened by Jack's actions which were self defence when it came right down to it. He wanted to hug her but held back.

"Yeah. I woke up in a cryo-tube, on Lupus 5. Johastein was there. He turned me over to some mercs. My hair was longer than this, Imam, like I'd never cut it." Jack put her hands on Imam's. "I'm scared. If I don't find Riddick they're gonna flip me to the 'golls."

Imam leaned back and took her hands in his own, "Riddick is dead. He died to save us. You don't remember that far. But he is dead. Leave him that way, Jack. I'll see if I can't purchase your contract with these mercs that Johastein signed you up with."

"That's right fucking noble, of you Imam. But you ain't gonna match that 1.126 million that is up for Riddick right now," Jack stood up and pulled away. Imam could sense that she was torn between her fear and a rage that he never remembered his Jack having. She paced for a bit, then threw out, "Where did Mr. Smyth go?"

Imam stood, "He left for Aquila, nearly a year ago. His ship didn't make it. There was engine failure over a parsec away from the outer planet of the system. No life was reported when the ship was finally found. He's dead too."

"I'm so fucked…" Jack froze, staring at her own hands. She returned to her pacing. 'No Riddick. No leads.' Toombs threat loomed in her mind. "Imam, can I crash here for a few days?" Maybe she could sneak away.

"Yes, Jack. Please give me time to help you. I know you are upset. Here, sit and drink something."

Jack sat and accepted the drink, "Thank you, Imam. I'm so sorry…." Her eyes filled with tears again, "I'm so confused…" She fought back the tears and drank her tea in silence. Something in the tea relaxed her. Not like being drugged exactly, but she felt drowsy again.

"I'll take you to your room, Jack," Lajjun said. Jack nodded. She stood and followed Imam's wife upstairs. The bed looked so comfy. "Here, Jack. Why don't you get a nap, and I'll make supper, Okay?"

"Yeah." Jack yawned, "Sounds fantastic, Lajjun. You sure you don't want help with the cooking?"

"I'm sure, sweetheart. You are a good cook, I'll give you a chance to wow us again later." Lajjun kissed Jack's cheek and left the room. Jack slumped to the bed. She smelled something cloying and sweet that she assumed was a type of local flower. The warmth of the room and the weight of the air combined to make it difficult to fight closing her eyes. She couldn't even be bothered to rub the sting from the insect bite... There was a muffled clattering noise. 'Lajjun sure made it to the kitchen fast.' Jack fell back on the bed, sinking down into the fluffy matress, and passed out….

…It was blurry; her eyes couldn't focus. Jack blinked. Wrong colors for Imam's place. Her arms were numb. She tried to move them. No go -- too anesthetized still. Her feet tingled. She felt somewhat cold. There was stale smoke in the air. Old sweat and metallic burn added to the mix. An indistinct shadow fell across her.

"Well, if it isn't sleeping beauty." Toombs. "Want to explain why you forced us to retrieve your ass?"

"I was still trying to get info, that's all," Jack mumbled, her tongue just as paralyzed as the rest of her.

"What? Oh, shut the fuck up. You can't tell me nothing in that state." He blew smoke into her face. "Hell, I'd take what I want, but you wouldn't feel it. So I got to fucking wait."

"Hey, Boss? You want me to get the wire off her?" Another Merc. Greene she thought.

"What fuckin' wire? Where the hell were you when she flushed a thousand UD's down the fucking toilet? No. Never mind. You go look up what you can find about Mr. Smyth. I want the name of his ship, where it was found and if anything happed that was unusual afterwards."

"Sure boss."

'I could find the info for you, asshole. But you won't give me that chance, will you? I hope you never find him,' Jack thought as she struggled to get her sight back. Toombs aggressively patted her cheek. "You ratted too much, princess. So, it's off to the 'golls with you. Sign and sealed. Hey, I even get a bonus of 20-percent for transporting you. Makes me 240K richer on delivery."

"Fuck you." Jack got the words out with venomous clarity.

"No doll, I'm gonna fuck you. See that's how things work, and if you had been smarter, you'd have worked your way into another crew by screwing the captain before we left Lupus 5. But I got the contract, and the goods, so I get to do with you whatever the fuck I want with you." Toombs began cutting her clothing. Jack played it like she was paralyzed until she could feel her legs then she kicked Toombs in the groin, hard enough to send him sprawling against the pilot's seat. He crumpled, groaning. Blood welled up on her chest where he'd been cutting her top. Jack looked at her arms. She was secured in the prisoner cryo-lockdown…. She struggled. Toombs slowly got up. "You must've got some feeling back, huh? You little bitch. I'd kill you, but that would cost too much. So I'm just gonna have to settle for messing you up." He cautiously moved forward, mindful of her unsecured legs. Jack kicked out again forcing him back.

"Stay the hell away from me, shitbag!"

Toombs laughed. "You sure are spirited. That'll make this fun." He moved in again, ready for her kick this time. Jack threatened with feint then caught him upside the head with the other leg knocking him to the ground.

"I said stay away!"

"I'm right proud of your learning, girl." Toombs picked himself up off the floor rubbing his temple. "But enough of this shit." He pulled out a stun gun and fired.

Jack felt high voltage rip through her body, painfully rendering her immobile again. "Someday, Toombs, I'm gonna see you die…" she blacked out again.

Jack woke completely secured, her shirt cut open… dried blood clung crustily to her skin where Toombs' knife had cut her. They were in space. The entire crew was there, leering at her. Even the bitch, Betsy, who was chewing on the end of a fat cigar. Nasty woman. Toombs was standing, watching her come around, playing with his knife. Waiting. Jack was smart enough to peer out through her eyelashes and take everything in, but she knew it would only buy her a few seconds. Suddenly, she hated everything Toombs stood for. It did not matter who she was anymore, only that she was being betrayed for money. Raped for thrills. Yeah, that was coming. She just had to live through it. Just hang on to the hate and live. Just live long enough to see Toombs die. She remembered being raped before. Would it hurt just as bad? "You know, I think she's awake, Boss," Curly this time.

'Stupid Merc, bet you found nothing about Smyth, or Riddick, because you're so dumb.' Jack turned her hate on the fellow who was, in her opinion, a brown-nose. She opened her eyes and looked right at him, "If you called him 'boss' more often, he might fuck you too, ass-sucker." Toombs slapped her face for the comment. "What's the matter Toombs? You don't think he's pretty? Maybe you should look at his baby face again." Toombs growled. "Oh, my mistake. You do think he's got a cute ass, don't you, you mother-fucking bastard?" This time he hit her hard, splitting her lip. At least he wouldn't be kissing her. She spit out some blood and smiled at him. "Think those 'golls will go for damaged goods?"

"Get me a gag." Betsy supplied some cloth and one of the other men plugged Jack's nose to force her to open her mouth. She smartly clenched her teeth, pressed her tongue down, and kept her breathing shallow. Toombs watched for a minute and then said, "No, dumb-ass. Hand me the club." Toombs took the weapon and belted her sharply in the stomach with his fist, hitting her just right to force her mouth open with surprise as she doubled over. He caught her by her hair, pulled her head back, forced the nightstick sideways into her mouth and tied it there. "Who taught you how to deal with convicts, moron?" He slapped the man upside the head. "Pinching her nose? What the fuck was that about?"

"I don't know…. I just saw it done on a vid-show…"

"Fuck vid-shows. They don't know shit. Okay?" The fellow nodded. Toombs pushed him away. "I'm gonna have to show you how to do everything, even fucking, likely. There's no way you boys are gonna get paid unless you get in line for this lesson, got it?" He looked around. "You decline and I'll kick you off at Kova, before the drop…" There was a chime of agreement. "Good. Nothing like a crew of players. Now pay attention." He pulled out the knife again and moved over to one leg and began cutting Jack's pants off. "No fucking way are we untying her."

'His balls must still smart,' Jack thought. It was kind of funny in a way. Jack might have laughed at Toombs if she was still able to talk. As it was all she could manage was a muffled giggling noise, so it was better not to even try. Toombs cut through her waistband. The cold air made her goose pimple. The knife was even colder against her skin as Toombs cut her panties. He didn't bother to cut the other leg of her pants, choosing instead to pull them down to her ankle. For a moment Jack felt very scared. She was so exposed. Toombs looked her over, eyeing her body now that he could see her fully. He blew smoke over her. The fear morhped into rage so strong that Jack shook with the force of it, 'Son of a bitch, fucking bastard, now I'm gonna stink, ass-wipe.'

"Alright. Let's look at the full package, shall we?" Toombs moved her top so that it was hanging to her sides. "I told you guys she was pretty. Look at that. Perky even." He put the cig in his mouth and worked his hands over her chest, pinching and twisting to color her up. 'Fucker, you're not gonna break me…' He leaned back and puffed the cig down. "Much better. Say, Betsy, how big was that special cigar you got again?"

Coarse laugher filled the ship. "About the size of your pecker, Captain. Only I don't gotta worry about it going soft after the first dozen rounds or so." The ship was filled with laugher again. "So are you gonna spend all you got on her, or are you saving some for me?"

"Lady, you will get yours, don't you worry." Toombs moved toward Jack again after putting the cig out. "You, doll, hurt my feelings. Not only did you rat us out but you kicked me. I was going to be a little less rough with you on account of your age, but you blew it." He reached out and touched her. "You can make it up to me by behaving and letting us have our fun." His hand wandered between her legs. His fingers probed her. Jack cringed inside. It was not like she could get away or defend herself now. She couldn't even talk back. But she could glare. So glare she did. "I always wondered if you were fully intact. Johastein told me his original plan for you, or, um, the original you…I think he was stupid, you are just as fine as the original," Toombs whispered in her ear. Jack turned her face away from him. She didn't want to think about what his words might mean, not now or ever. Besides, she figured that the 'original' was just as dead as Smyth -- Riddick -- if Imam had told her the truth. "Hand me a wet-wipe, would you?" Toombs told one of the others. "No reason to get blood all over the fucking place." He took the wipe and pushed his fingers against the resistance they encountered.

"Hey, Boss? You gonna fuck her or not?"

"Go sit down and wait your turn, Curly." Toombs put the wipe out to catch the mess. "I was just checking everything out. This one is smart, you never know when the smart ones are going to do something to shred dicks they don't like." He unzipped and dropped his pants. Jack's stomach turned inside out. He was really doing it. Part of her couldn't quite keep cool anymore as he forced his way into her, but it was rage she felt, pure and hot. A fire of anger that made her focus on how much she hated Toombs and the rest of his so-called crew. If Toombs could betray her like this surely he'd turn on the others as soon as UD's were involved. Localized pain flooded her senses throbbing and expanding to wash out everything except the dark emotions at her core. Out of the hate and anger emerged a new personality. One that crushed Jack with the pain that was being inflicted on her body. Toombs slapped her. "Fucking pay attention to me, bitch." She imagined shards of blue glass mincing his face and body. She hardened her face. "You think you're tough, do you? Wait until the 'golls are done with you, doll. You will look back on this little event with the fondness of a bride on her wedding night." He finished with her and wiped himself off. "You fellas like 'um bloody or clean? If you like 'um bloody then you should go first."

The remaining male Mercs jockeyed for positions in line. Jack died in shattered pieces with each indignity endured. Yet the young woman remaining refused to cry. She refused to be cowed. 'Kill me, fuckers. I won't shed a tear for your pleasure. Go on, do your worse. I'll find you someday and laugh on your graves.'

But Betsy was the worse one. She came last. Unlike the men, Betsy wanted to see the girl forced to enjoy what was happening to her. There were no defenses against the way Betsy soothed her, gently cleaned her, and lightly worked her tortured body into involuntary responses of pleasure. "You dumb asses. You can't make her cry by hurting her. But I'll have her sobbing. Toombs, you could learn something here."

"I'll bet. You get her to cry and I'll increase your pay 5-percent, out of pocket."

"Yeah? You're on." Betsy redoubled her efforts.

"You can't and you work for me, scratch and pocket change."

"That's a lot more than 5-percent on a losing bet. How about I take a cut to scratch plus 5?"

"Okay. I'll cover your costs and pay 5 if you lose." Toombs looked at the others; "Boys? Want to do side bets? Now's the time."

In the end, Betsy won. The captive girl sobbed. It was the final nail in Jack's coffin. 'Jack's dead,' the girl thought as she felt the cigar being pushed inside her, 'she was weak…'

"Alright, fun's over. Dope her out. Time to get to Kovan."


	27. Icy Home Turf

**A/N**: This chapter takes place on UV6 and is entirely Jack/Riddick. I know it's taken me a long time to get this out, but here you go anyway. PS: I don't own, so don't sue.

Icy Home Turf

It had been nearly a week, by Jack's reckoning, since they had stranded themselves on the frigid world of UV6. Since the crash Riddick had scouted out around the site they pitched their tent at, so to speak, striking out and exploring a section at a time. He'd been up the mountain twice, and all around the landscape in every angle. Every time he'd come back before dark, usually carrying game slung over a shoulder. While Jack wanted to preserve the meat somehow besides the cold, freezing it was the only option until they found some sort of fuel. She looked out over the roof of the ice hut and took in a breath. The chilled air cut a path through her lungs that reminded her again that survival here was not certain even with the current streak of 'good' weather. She wrapped the lower half of her face with a scarf and squinted as her eyes moved across the icy landscape.

The temporary campsite was holding up well, as long as she made sure to keep checking and patching the ice block roof. The wind, diverted by the cliff, scraped the ice thin if she let it go for more than a day at a time. The good news was that the same wind kept the solar heater for their water supply clear of ice and snow. She was currently perched next to it, having finished replacing the cylinder. Her eyes wandered out toward the ice scar that marked their crash site. It was amazing how fast the landscape was crumpling back into the characteristic grooves. Soon the smooth ice would be totally gone. She patted the heater and thought, 'There you go, filled with more ice and ready to give up water, like the good heater you are,' she snickered to herself as she made her way down. She was talking to the tools. The cold must be freezing her brain.

This afternoon, Rich had returned with a large kill. He was just outside the doorway of the hut, skinning it at that very moment. Jack passed him still snickering to herself. He looked up at her and grinned but didn't ask what had amused her. He already knew that it didn't take much. He rather enjoyed that little fact. Now that there was a chance that they were good and lost to the 'Verse his own natural, if dark, humor was surfacing. Jack nearly always got his jokes when he shared them. Hearing her quiet laugh lifted his spirits. He looked up at her and caught her eye with a raised eyebrow. Jack winked at him and managed to get a snicker in response. He was aware of her as she pushed the blanket back and slipped into the dwelling but kept his hands busy with the carcass.

The inside of the hut was just about warm enough for her to want to strip off her coat. She unwrapped her scarf and just unzipped her coat a bit while she smiled to herself. There was a pile in the corner that was a welcome site. Rich had found some animal droppings in his explorations and brought them back. The pile was quite a good size too. She examined them. They were quite dry, freeze dried even. She snagged some empty containers and quickly sorted the prize into them. It was better to store the droppings away for later than to quickly use them up before they really knew how bad the weather could get. The clear days, cold and breezy, wouldn't last forever. It was hard to tell if the 'wet' season here would be warmer or colder than what they were currently experiencing. She'd read up on everything she could find and knew that within a few months at the most they'd need the heat of a fire.

That unexpected task done, Jack reviewed her agenda. While day was busy and certain tasks had to be done several times, other things often popped up seemingly at random. What really needed to be done before anything else was expanding the hole in the ice to keep the meat frozen from the kill Riddick was working on. The benefit of that was in doing so she'd have the blocks of ice for the roof. Then she wouldn't need to cut out more until the day after next. That decided, Jack picked up her newly crafted longer blade meant for cutting into the ice and headed outside again. The cold air quickly made her re-zip her coat, wrap her face, and pull up her hood.

Riddick finished skinning the animal carcass. He was perched on his heels, blade making short work of stripping the meat from the bone. It had been some type of cat, based on the retractable claws. He really needed to take a peek at Jack's pocket 'puter to see what this critter was. Surely they had been categorized. He'd made certain that the data about this world had been saved off the main computer before the crash, and the one thing he had saved from the first ship was the backup batteries that the computer system used. Even though it wouldn't last forever, at least they had some time to memorize it. He hoped that the information would help them survive on this harsh world.

He turned his attention to the dead 'cat' he was striping the flesh from. The meat he lifted in strips was placed inside another, temporary, solar heater as an experiment. He was hoping that it would cook. Its hide would soon be stretched out on a frame made of bones from the first kill, the bear-like _Urzo giganticus_. The ex-ranger had spent quite a bit of time studying the entry about the creature. He knew that it was thought extinct, but was known to lair in caves. The usual occupation levels were groups of 3-5 adults. The male kept a harem of breeding females and there could be anything up to twice as many young as adults. It seemed to depend on factors not fully calculated. Riddick guessed that the Urzo's prey would have a rather large impact on the numbers of offspring any one group could manage to raise. Since he'd killed a male he guessed that there would have to be a lair about, fairly close.

Jack looked at him; "You're not doing the entire thing are you?"

"Nah. Don't want to waste the meat if this doesn't work. Just a few more strips and the rest can go in the pit." He looked up at Jack. She gave him a sly glance and bent over. He waited, paused in his motion. He felt her fingers brush over the thickening bush on his chin. "I'm letting it grow, okay?"

Jack let her fingers comb through the smooth wiry hair. It would be much nicer to touch if she didn't have to wear the gloves. She nodded, "Sure. I like it, Rich."

He snorted. Of course she liked it; the beard was her idea after all. Now if he could just convince her to dreadlock her hair. He was sure that she'd see his way sooner rather than later. They just didn't have the water to spare.

"I know that look, you're scheming again. If it's about my hair, I'll think about it." She moved away without kissing him.

He pouted slightly at her back and quickly reminded himself that the expression was out of character. His chest felt way too full again, but he was starting to enjoy the ache.

Jack moved over to the pit where she'd removed blocks of ice for the roof. There was a maze of spikes and sharp implements around the edge of it that she carefully navigated. It was necessary to keep the existing meat safe from scavengers. She moved the ice from the edges of the 'lid' and then lifted the metal sheet (an overturned sled) off the top and reached in to rearrange the existing frozen food. The pit was about waist deep and she had to lie out on the ice to reach the lower layer of meat. After she had a clear space to stand she set to work on carving the ice into blocks that would be lifted out to make additional space. It didn't seem to take long for her man to pull up with a sled of half-frozen meat. He took the ice blocks she raised up and set them aside. That finished, he handed down pounds of flesh that their survival here would depend on. Jack took them and laid them out, placing dividers of cloth between them to keep them from freezing together. Once the new meat was on the bottom she replaced the older, solidly frozen steaks over it and let Rich lift her out of the hole.

They re-covered the top with the metal sheet and sealed it by replacing some of the ice blocks over the edges and top. The extra blocks were loaded into the sled that Riddick pulled back to the hut. He helped her with the patching that needed to be done and tried to figure out a way to limit the erosion that was a persistent problem. He did a little sketch, took some rough measurements and then set the problem aside until that evening. The newest skin needed to be dried out and lightly stretched. Best to do it before the hair started to fall out of it. Using bone and sinew, Riddick quickly made a frame and attached the cat fur to it. He set the frame so that the wind would hit the inner surface and help cure the hide.

Meanwhile, Jack settled down with a scraper and one of the growing collections of skins. The wind and ice removed most of the danger that the hair would fall out, but she still needed to remove the deposits frozen to the inside surface. Plus the scraping tended to work the skin into a nice soft state. She had a pile of small furs already done, but the large Urzo skin was ready to scrape so that was what Jack concentrated on. The thick, heavy skin was only slightly damaged. She'd have to decide if it was worth sewing up and patching or if she needed to cut it into smaller pieces for other uses. She was sure that it would make a much better blanket over what they were using.

Riddick took stock of the time and decided to check his traps. He moved off toward the various deadly contraptions he'd set up and repaired anything that was damaged. Using the traps to catch small game was a hit and miss affair. Most times there was nothing in the traps. This day was a nothing day. He glanced at the location of the sun in the sky and noted that there was just an hour before darkness fell. He returned to the campsite as the already frigid temperature of the daytime began to fall into dangerously frozen levels.

Jack was just removing the cooked meat from his experimental solar cooker as he walked up. He helped her and they quickly moved into the hut where it was warmer. Solar grilled meat and thick slabs of cheese on warm bread, and instant hot coca ready in a short time. He guessed that the solar heater wouldn't work unless the meat placed in it was fresh, but it would work to thaw the frozen stuff. After eating, Riddick looked out at the star studded night sky. He didn't linger long because the nights were too cold here for that, but he did allow that perhaps Imam was right. For once he felt like the universe might just leave him alone and let him live his life. Tomorrow he'd go back up the mountain and scout out that ledge he spotted with its suspiciously dark shadows bisecting the sheer wall jutting from it. If the shadows were what he hoped for, he and Jack could move to a location that would offer more shelter against the upcoming winter.

Morning came bright and clear. The chill in the air was biting, even inside the shelter. Rich had never been one to ignore what had to be done, however. He bundled up, layering on clothes from the supplies that would help hold in his body heat.

Jack watched him for a moment before handing him a bowl of dried meat and instant hot cereal. "I have a bad feeling about today, Rich. I don't want you to leave."

He looked at the worry on her face. "I'll take a pack of supplies, if the weather acts up I'll find shelter. Look Jack, we can't winter here. At the very least we'll need a solid cave. The first creature I killed had to have a lair someplace. I think I might have spotted it last time I went up the mountain. If I'm wrong then we'll have to figure out something else, but I need to check this out. I'll be fine."

She nodded and sat down. There were things she could do, the skins from the kills needed work, the make shift plumbing had to be attended to, and patching up the roof again. She could make that pack for him. She got up and begin assembling it, pulling rations, water bottles, a space blanket, and one of the precious tins of canned heat.

In the interim he stepped out into a cold that instantly froze the moisture in his nose. It was going to be a clear, very cold day. Likely dry. Currently there was no wind, according to the bit of flagging he'd set up on a high point. He watched the fabric hang limp and lifeless on the pole for a moment. The skulls of the kills he'd made decorated the 'front yard' of their camp. An odd assortment of large and medium sized white heads with razor sharp teeth and small little skulls that would likely end up being used for something besides defense in the future. Behind him Jack's feet made crunching sounds in the snow as she walked up to him.

He turned to look at her as she approached. Jack sighed, reached across and snagged his scarf and tucked it into the neck of his jacket so that his nose and mouth were protected. His eyes reflected his amusement as Riddick looked at her, "Check the traps, okay?"

She flashed him a brilliant smile, "Of course, hon. See you soon." She handed him the pack and watched him walk off into the vast whiteness of the world around her before snagging a sled and setting out to tend the traps.

The ex-ranger headed back to the section where he had carved handholds in the cliff wall. Settling the pack on his back he climbed nimbly up and hosted himself over the edge onto a ledge that spiraled up the mountain in broken spurts. As he went higher the wind picked up, but the air seemed to warm slightly. Riddick stopped when the sun was at its zenith and ate some of the food. The water was warm enough from being next to his body that he added some of it to an instant broth cup. Not as good as from Jack's cooking pot, but far better than prison food. He didn't linger long. The area he needed to explore was still ahead of him and it was looking like he'd not make it back to camp by dark. He really hoped it was a cave entrance.

He trudged up the spiraling ledge for a while longer, thinking about how to get to the place he wanted to investigate before it became dark. The distance was partly to blame for why he'd put off exploring those shadows in the first place. His eyes were drawn to the wispy tendrils of ice-crystal clouds decorating the purplish-gray sky. The upper atmospheric winds were moving fast. Looked like a storm was heading their way. Maybe a short cut was in order? Arming two newly made curved shivs he scaled up the sheer wall instead of following the ledge. Half an hour later he was standing before the shadowed area. There were bones scattered about on the path, and noises that were indicative of a multi-creature lair coming from the depths of the shadows. This was going to be one hell of a fight if the big one he'd already killed was any indication. 'Right,' he thought. 'No time like the present.'

Snagging a bone, he tossed it into the opening and listened to it hit the floor with a clatter that echoed like there were more bones there. Silence. He flattened himself against the wall and waited. His heartbeat was the only sound, and he tuned it out. The ice in his nose made it impossible to breathe. Slowly the wind gave way to the noises he wanted to hear. He closed his eyes. Crunch – Crunch – crunch… Footsteps slowly moved toward the ledge. He guessed that the creature was about his size. He waited until he could see it out of the corner of his eye, and wondered if it could see him. Then he lunged, sending the shaggy beast to its death with a screeching yell. He'd have to climb down to the body later. Something hit him, knocking the air out of his lungs. He spun, going low, under the new challenger's clawed hand. The wind whistled through the cuts in his coat. Jack was gonna kill him, if this thing didn't do the job for her.

The creature hadn't expected that move or the deep slash to the tendons on its lower legs. It roared in pain and toppled over as it tried to move forward. Riddick cut the thing's throat and quickly moved inside the cave. His eyes quickly alighted on several smaller versions of the creatures. Of course, the male had been exploring, while the females and young stayed in the cave. He'd just killed all the adults; there was no pity to be had for those left. Given the chance, they would kill Jack without a second glance. He did the deed quickly and as painlessly as he could. Then he explored the cave to determine how suitable it would be.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack looked out at the twilight from the doorway. Riddick wasn't coming back that night. It would the first time that they'd been apart since… She let the blanket drop. The hut felt empty without him there. She just hoped that he had found shelter. After moving the upright sled back into place, she turned and looked through the twilight at the home she tried to create. Maybe Riddick was right, that this was not enough shelter for a long winter. But she had tried, and they had been fairly comfortable if cold all the time. Feeling dismal and very alone, Jack climbed into the nest of blankets, worked her boots off and pulled her feet under. She curled up in the chilled darkness with most of her clothes still on in an attempt to preserve body heat and tried to not cry. The faint howl of the nightly wind slowly lulled her to sleep.

Something woke her. Jack kept still while she tried to pinpoint what it was that shook her from an uneasy sleep. Quiet. Muffling, total, deep silence filled the air. She frowned at that. What would cause such an impossible lack of noise? The normal sound of the wind, ice scraping minute particles from the roof, whistling through the spikes and skulls outside the door was totally still. Or… An uneasy, painful, band formed around her chest as the possibilities filled her mind. It might have started to snow, and she might be buried in a very deep drift built up along the cliff. It took what seemed like forever to tamp down the rising panic and mentally take stock of the situation.

It was still dark. She sat up and pulled the blankets tighter around herself. The wind normally screeched and howled as it blew around the obstruction that her handy work had created. Jack put her ice-cold boots on and tossed the blankets off her shoulders. The hut was fairly warm. Considering that she hadn't made heated food for herself before she slept that was surprising. She moved over to the door and slid the metal sled out of the way. The blanket hanging over the opening was very – solid. Fear blossomed again. But she's suspected this, hadn't she? She frowned and pulled it back to see that snow had blown in and covered the doorway.

Quirking an eyebrow, Jack dropped to her knees and picked up a shoulder bone that was roughly shovel shaped. Something Riddick had told her might come in handy at some point, that shoulder bone. So he'd been all too right. Not daring a light for fear that it might cause her even more panic, Jack began to carefully dig, attempting to squeeze the snow together rather than fluff it up. She had no place to put the snow she was removing unless she used it to line the walls. Hell, that would be a little better than what she was doing now. She visualized something like a pillar about 3 feet away from the door along the wall opposite to where she hung the cooking pots. Better than nothing. Tamping down the snow, digging a way out and trying to make the remaining snow solid was careful work. She took a break to eat when her stomach growled then went back to the digging.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The night in the cave was just about as uncomfortable as they came. Riddick had a space blanket, food, and his clothes. He'd become so used to having Jack pressed up against his side that her not being there led to wakefulness. He heard the storm when it started; the screeching wind made it impossible to head back or sleep. Exploring the cave revealed that it had many features that were unexpected. Part of it was ice, and part was stone. The stone area was a lower level then the ice cave connected to it. He'd scouted out all the connecting passages and found that there was an additional entrance through the upper wall of the ice cave. They would want to camouflage it. Some of the ice in that area was window clear, and he thought that perhaps he could set up some sort of trap or alarm system using it. He could also see making his own clear "ice" using plexi glass from the crash and running warm water over it to hide that the plexi was there.

That was possible only because he discovered that the warmth of the cave was due to a hot spring and pool that connected to the stone part of it. He wasn't sure that the water was safe to drink, but at least they had a natural heat source. It didn't look like the Urzo had consumed the water, but that might have been because there was no easy way down to it, yet. If he had to guess, he would bet that the hot spring fed the movement of the ice in the fingerprint grooved plains. After finishing his explorations, Riddick set about cleaning the place up a bit. He couldn't sleep so he might as well keep busy until he could go back to Jack. As he sorted the bones littered on the floor and prepared the carcasses of the former residents he wondered if his – mate – was okay. He wasn't sure when he had started to see her that way, but he knew that was the truth of the matter. Jack was his, now and forever. He needed her like he needed to breathe.

Finally in the deep of the night the wind gave way to snow. The storm's center seemed to be wind free but the volume of snow falling gave him cause to worry. He gathered up his stuff, repacked it and found a likely bone to act as a walking stick. The need to get back to Jack was growing by the second now. He hurried back down the mountain as quickly as he could safely go, cursing the rips in his coat as he went. Fortunately the air was warmer now that it was still. But warmer in this place meant only that he could breath without ice forming in his nose. The chill crept into his skin through the claw marks until he was forced to pull the space blanket out of his pack and tie it over them.

The blackness lightened to a muddy white flecked gray. He figured that meant it was finally daylight. Riddick trekked on, hoping that he'd be able to still see the hut through the snow. In parts of the path he was hitting powder as deep as mid-calf now. He calculated that there was enough ground to cover that he might make it back to camp by mid-day, but he dared not risk climbing down in this murk.

He arrived back to see only a few of the longer poles sticking out of the snow; the top of the hut created a mounded hill in the snowdrift covering it. And there was no sign of Jack being out and about. Then again, she could have been directly below him, tunneling, and he'd not know it. God, he hoped not… He moved over to the mound and noted that the snow was at least 4 foot deep, maybe deeper. He cursed. 'Should have _listened_ to her when she said not to go,' he scolded. 'Might not have been in this mess, if I'd just give in a bit and admit that sometimes she's right.' Flashes of Jack with blue lips plagued him until he had the ice cleared and could reassure himself that she hadn't been under so much snow that the oxygen was cut off.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Jack heard the scraping on the roof before she saw the faint light glowing through it. She looked up at the roof from her position on the floor, watching for the shadow that would hint at movement. It didn't take long for the flashes to add up to the code, "Hi Babe". She snickered and picked up the flashlight of the loader, "Hi you," she flashed back. She could almost feel the tension ease. Rich was home. She decided to let him dig her out and set to work on making something hot to eat. He deserved no less.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was the smell of a rich barley and bean soup flavored with tinned ham that greeted him as he broke through Jack's tunnel about six inches from where the door was. Moments later the shoulder bone poked up at him followed by the sound of Jack's laugh.

"Come on, Rich. There's food waiting for you," she teased.

He took the 'shovel' from her and set to work clearing out the space around the door. By the time he finished, the smell of bread had joined that of the soup. Swinging the pack off his back and shaking off the snow that had settled on him, Riddick ducked through the blanket and the slid the metal back in place.

Jack was looking him over, taking in the shredded coat, his semi-soaked pants and gloves, and the look of mixed triumph and regret on his face. "Out of those clothes, hon. Here, get under the covers. Let's get you warmed up and fed," she patted the bed with one hand while stirring the soup with the other.

"I thought you'd be angered with me Jack. I should have listened to you." He followed her directions and quickly shed the moist clothing in the nearly warm air of the hut and clambered into the bedding as the first shiver ghosted over his skin. Jack fixed him a bowl of food and gave him a knowing look, but said nothing. "I did find the lair I was looking for, and once it's cleaned up a bit more it will be quite nice."

After a moment Jack settled down next to him under the covers with only a layer of thermal underwear on, bowl in hand, "So convince me."

"About the cave?" Rich watched her nod; he smiled and outlined all the good points about the new location and what they could do to make it better. Jack, he noted, listened with interest and never once acted mad at him. By the time the soup and bread were gone, the dishes washed up, and his clothes spread out to dry the only sign of displeasure she'd made was a slight clicking of her tongue as she looked at his coat. After she climbed back under the covers he felt her checking his body for the wounds and had to hold back a hiss as her fingers uncovered welts where the claws had made their near miss. It didn't take long for her to find the pain cream in the kit near the nest they slept in and work it into his side. He held her close and drifted off to sleep.

Quite early the next morning they devoted their energy to breaking camp and figuring out how to move everything. The loaders would help to move a good portion and Riddick could set up pulleys for the sleds. He wanted Jack in the cave before the next storm hit and by the look of things that wouldn't take long to happen. He knew, and she knew now too, that they were racing against time. Breaking camp didn't take all that long but it did take long enough that they'd have to stop someplace halfway up the mountain unless they pushed through all night. They'd gotten a nice long sleep the day before, and decided together that unless the weather turned foul that they'd keep moving as long as they could. The plan was to ride the loaders up while holding the ropes for the sleds, set up a pulley and lift the sleds to the semi-flat area, and then move to the next rise.

The set off as the sun was reaching its zenith and managed to get their belongings about a third of the way up before night fell. The snow was still softly falling, with a slight slant from a light breeze, but the flakes were small and the volume light. About midnight, one of the sleds tipped and they came to a halt while Riddick fixed the ropes. Jack made them some food, cold but not frozen, and they ate while recovering lost ground. It took them the rest of the night and half of the following day to reach the cave. After a slip or two they made it onto solid footing and were able to guide the full loaders to the cave itself. The sleds took both their flagging muscle power to get up the last bit of cliff, but eventually even those were bullied into the cave.

Jack took a moment, looked at the entrance, and walked back through the deep fissure in the ice until she could study the steep drop off beyond. It was about the same distance that Riddick was tall, or just slightly longer. The flat surface was wind swept and snow free at the moment even though the small flakes continued to slowly drift down from the leaden sky. She stepped out of the crack like tunnel and turned to study the cliff wall. The actual rough opening was too large for her comfort, and she could see the warmer air from inside the cave fogging up as it seeped from the upper cracks. She frowned and slowly moved back inside.

Riddick was in the process of checking five skins tacked to the icy wall that spanned one side. Two of the skins were from larger individuals and the other 3 were a mixture of smaller sizes. She could tell that Rich had spent his partial night here cleaning up as the bones were sorted, droppings gathered together, and the soiled ice scrapings gathered into a location near the entrance where they could be quickly swept out. She looked around her while biting the inside of her cheek. The majority of the floor was still littered with bits of bone and dirty snow. Fortunately Jackie's nose was rather frozen and she couldn't smell a thing.

"It's got promise, Rich. There are things that we can do to make it nice. I mean…" she wandered the length of the cave, "look. It's got a natural storage area here. A chamber of ice… and another way in." She turned back to him. "And the entrance is rather deep. I might be able to set up something to keep the heat where it'll do the most good."

Riddick walked over to her. "There's something I want to show you. Follow me." Jackie looked at him for a second and then followed him deeper into the ice chamber. She noticed that a stone wall broke free from the ice and curved around to her left as they walked unlike the wall on the right. She looked down at the floor and noticed the ice was melting, slippery, with a slight crunch and rapidly becoming like slush with each step. And they were going down. Just as she was fearful of falling the ice gave way to stone that was rough enough to walk on even though there was water running down it. Riddick led her around a final corner and she realized that she was looking at an underground thermal pool that put up a gentle steam. There was no direct way to the water, which was five or six feet down from the ledge they stood on. "We should test the water. It looks to me like the original inhabitants never touched it." Jackie gave him a dumbfounded nod before looking up and noticing the fantastic forms of ice dangling from the roof of the upper cave.

He led her back to the icy area and helped her scrape the semi melting ice off the stone floor. It would be more comfortable for them closer to the natural heat source even if they had to cut steps in the ice to get down to the rock. After that was finished and the extra ice blocks moved to help block the heat from what would be the storage chamber, Jack set up their nest like she had in the hut, placing it temporarily in a slightly hollowed depression with ice blocks forming a wall behind. She padded the ice with the mattresses and furs before settling the blankets in place. Now that the ice was not close enough to be actively melting the floor dried nicely.

Although it was just after noon, Jack was tired. She sighed as she heard Riddick cutting into the ice above her closer to the entrance. It was not time to rest, so she'd better get up there and help him.

"Hey babe," he greeted her as she appeared.

She smiled, "I got the nest set up. A suspended frame would be better than what I've done, but the ice is bound to be softer than the rock." She held out her ice cutter, "Want some help?"

He nodded, "Making a shelf of sorts for the frozen stuff we brought up with us. The blocks can be used to make a wall to block this off." He pointed up to the other opening showing her that it wasn't open anymore, "Put a hatch on it, cut some handholds; there's a pulley rope to open it."

"Oh, nice, Rich." Jack kissed his cheek above his beard and set to cutting blocks out of the ice. They worked together until the task was finished and Jack went to cook while Riddick unloaded the frozen meat off the sled into the area carved out for it. After they ate Riddick helped set up a fire ring. They used what loose rocks were at hand and added the thicker pieces of bone to fill in. Although Jack was not totally happy with the arrangement she figured it would do for the moment. Then they split up, with her figuring out how to store the rest of the foodstuff and him working on how to keep other Urzo groups from challenging them for the cave.

After a very long day Riddick came inside, accepted food, ate and said to her, "Let's get some sleep. I've got a few ideas I want to work on tomorrow." He spread his coat over the top of the nest and crawled inside. Jackie piled on the blankets and joined him. Soon their moans echoed off the stone chamber. Although it was unfinished, as of yet, they both felt safe enough to give into their desires fully like they had in space. As they drifted off to sleep, nice and warm, Riddick mumbled sleepily in Jack's ear, "Mine, forever."

She snuggled in close and echoed, "Forever." Jackie slept deep, knowing she was safe. And latest her visit to Furya was peaceful. She wandered through the graves of her people and touched their memorials. Shirah walked with her in silence. Finally one of the spirits walked her to the mountaintops and Jackie was shown lichen growing up in a high alpine environment upon a windswept rock. She saw that the same thing grew nearby on UV6. The understanding of it was that she should make a tea of it and drink the brew every day… but first she had to find it. "Why should I do this?"

"It will give you time," the elder Furyan male told her. "Time that Shirah would rather you did not have, but you have listened to me and I give you this as a boon to repay you for giving me peace."

The words echoed in her ears as she woke to the sounds of pans clattering. The sun was just barely lighting the horizon, a narrow shaft of weak light hitting far overhead but causing the ice to glitter like diamonds. Jackie was shivering slightly. Riddick was already up and getting food ready. "You let me sleep?" she asked. He nodded with a twinkle in his eye. She pulled her clothing on before getting out of the covers and slipped her feet into her boots. It was like plunging her feet into pails of ice cubes. "My god, it is cold here." She struggled into her jacket.

"We'll adjust."

"I really need to make this better insulated. The cave, the bed, everything." She moved over and accepted a bowl of warm food.

"I've got some furs that will help. The original dwellers of this cave." Riddick said little else until he brought her the white thick fur clad skins. He'd left them stuck to the wall, she remembered. He set her to scraping as he went to work on the entrance again. She figured that there would be a lot for her to learn if they were to live for any length of time here. One of the immediate concerns was fuel to keep them warm. Riddick realized too that it was a huge problem. To partly solve it he had removed a large section of the life support system and as many power cells as he could fit onto a sled. They could set up the heating unit inside the rock portion of the cave and put it on low. Even having the air a few degrees warmer made a difference. The insulating tiles off the outside of the ship would make the fire ring more efficient, so they and the water cistern filled another sled. The piping, plexi windshield, emergency lights, as much of the wire as could be salvaged, the emergency tool kits, and medical supplies had made up another sled. Most of the items had remained packed. Now though he began to unload them and set to work figuring out how to adapt them to their situation.

Meanwhile Jackie worked in the cave. She scraped the furs. She set up a shelf of sorts for various dry goods where they would be within easy reach of the cooking area. She listened to Rich as he puttered around in the ice cave area, and watched him as he set up various bits of salvaged ship's systems. Eventually she mentioned that the heat was rising straight up and out and Riddick sat down to ponder the problem. His solution was to make an ice block half dome with additional walls to help hold the heat where they could benefit from it. Then he showed her the new improved entrance that looked like a creature's maw with roughly carved bone standing in for teeth.

The built up entrance plugged up the cracks where the heat had escaped and alongside the mean looking heads and skulls set atop a bone framework there was little doubt about whose lair this was. Other Urzo groups would keep clear of it. She also noticed that Rich set up a quick climb to the ledge down to the grooved plains below, and another to the next one above the entrance just off to the right. A pulley sat carefully hidden from view below behind a icy jumble that looked natural enough, but that Jack knew he'd made to disguise the lifting system. Someplace below them a sled sat, waiting. She smiled at him, "It looks much more secure, hon. I feel much better about staying here now."

Riddick tried to act like it didn't mean anything to him, but inside he felt about to burst. "In the morning I plan on doing some scouting around the mountain. Maybe out the back. I think that I'll set up a pulley for the water and work on some windows. The cave is darker than the hut and we still need light to read by."

"Want me to look up how to test the water? There should be something in the medical kits I can use."

He looked at her, "There's enough steam that we might be able to set up some way to condense water from that, Jack. But go ahead and look it up."

The next few days were spent setting up the cave to their liking and exploring around the mountainside. The back way in to the lair opened up to a gentle rather rolling landscape with the peak of the mountain breaking up the closest hills with hints of window clear ice and windswept chunks of rock. Away in the distance was a valley, sheltered from the worse of the winds with a flat bottom that looked rather like a frozen lake. Large grayish mounds dotted the smooth expanse. She couldn't quite get her brain around the implications for a moment. Then Riddick stepped up next to her and said softly, "So that's what they eat," but didn't elaborate further. Of course, large predators had to have a food supply consisting of larger plant eaters. But where were the plants they were eating?

That night Rich and Jack sat around their cave, basking in the warmer air, carefully trapped, and decided that they would explore. He would venture down into the valley and she would scale the mountainside. Jack was happy to stick closer to the cave. Still, she remembered her dream with haunting clarity. The meaning of it was clear: she needed to find the plant that the elder Furyan had shown her if she and Rich were to have any time of safety. So the next morn they parted. Riddick took a pack of supplies "just in case" and Jack set about exploring the "back entrance" into their lair. She climbed quite high, as she ventured out with one eye peeled for the lichen. She thought about the conditions of Furya where it grew and concluded that if it survived here it would need someplace sheltered but with enough sun. She had hoped to find it growing higher up the mountain, but the conditions here were much harsher than those on Furya. The bare rock here was windswept clean. Dejected, Jack finished up her scouting and returned to the cave.

Once there she settled in to work on sewing Rich a new coat to replace the one that he'd gotten shredded. The cave seemed lighter, she noted. Her eyes scanned the ice above her head and narrowed. There was light, weak, but notable, filtering in through or refracting off of the ice. Jack put down her knife and walked over to the wall, looking for the source of the light. Her feet took her back to the ledge overlooking the pool, and there, up in the ice wall was a section of clear, window-like ice, with a shaft of sunlight dancing through the odd formations left behind by the steam as it froze on the ceiling. She became excited. What if the lichen grew inside the cave? The conditions couldn't have been better for it. She couldn't see the far wall with enough detail to tell if anything was growing on it, but she did know it was stone. She moved her coat making into a position where she could watch the light move through the chamber.

By early evening, Jack had confirmed that something was growing on the upper stone walls at the back of the pool. Rather a large bunch of patches of something, actually. She had no idea how to get over to it to check if the growth was the lichen she was told about, but the fact was that she and Rich couldn't survive on meat alone and the supplies they brought with them wouldn't last forever. At the very least, any non-poison plant life they found would provide vitamins that they needed. She pondered the problem of how to get over to it as she started to cook.

Riddick had a good day. He'd found that the herd animals were easy enough to kill. He was able to collect quite a bit of their droppings after his hunt. As he was heading back to the cave, he discovered a source of meat by watching one particularly interesting large cat like creature. It seemed to be waiting for something over a spot of smooth ice. He watched for a while until the large creature pulled up a wiggling sliver scaled – fish. The large predators of this cold world had access to fish underneath a frozen lake. It didn't take much to kill it. His catch for the day consisted of one speared long legged herd animals, the cat, and several good-sized fish. He made his way inside the cave, placing the herd animal carcass in the storage area as he passed it. "I've got fish, babe," he called.

"Fish? You found running water?" Jackie was looking at the scaled find with wide eyes.

He held up the offer. "Don't know how easy they will be to catch, but I've got 3 of them. I think I'll set up the solar cooker to work on the other 2, if you want to cook this one."

She cocked her head, "With what fuel?"

"Here," he tossed his pack at her as he set the fish down on a clean surface.

She looked in the pack and smiled. Shortly thereafter she had the fish sliced into thin boneless steaks, with the skin and bones set aside for other uses. It didn't take long for Jack to have a crackling flame in the fire pit with the droppings he'd gathered. She quickly set the fish to cook, and carefully spread the bones out to dry. Some of the rib bones would make fine needles.

After dinner, Jack and Rich sat and told each other about their respective day. Jack then mentioned the lichen and the patches she spotted on the other side of the pool. Riddick picked up a spare bit of hide from her coat making and spent some time drawing out the problem. He finally concluded, "I'll make a platform using the poles and some of the sleds, alright? Just let me observe where it needs to go."

Over the course of the next week they spent quite a bit of time apart. It was to be expected that Riddick would hunt and Jackie would set up a home. She had a feeling that they were racing time. In a way they were. The snows began to fall one night while they were asleep… and fell rather continuously for days. Cave bound, Riddick set to work on piecing the plexi-glass he'd salvaged into an ice flow that he carefully created to provide them with some additional light inside the cave. He set up the water cistern to condense and collect the steam so that they'd have drinking water and built the platform so that they could access the backside of the pool cavern. He built a hammock like structure for their bed and some additional furniture for the cave. That done, he worked on crafting weapons, traps, and tools out of native materials.

Jackie worked on creating nets, lining the fire pit and the area around the hammock with whatever tiles scavenged off the freighter, and using what they had brought with them to the best advantage possible. She tested the water in the pool and found that it wouldn't make good drinking water but it would make fine bathing water; while the growth on the far wall not poisonous at all. The crowning achievement was her work on a coat for Rich. He ended up with a nice fur lined Urzo skin poncho, with a hood.

Together they decided to stake out a claim on a section of lake. Once the snows stopped he'd make a blind and set up a semi-igloo kind of structure for protection from the wind. Some of the skulls of the creatures he killed would serve as scarecrows against other predators that might threaten the fishing spot. He set up the shelter over the spot where the fishing seemed to be the best. It was a mobile setup and could be moved should the fish move. He then killed other challengers to the spot and added the meat to the storage chamber. It was decided that Jackie would tend to the fishing nets and traps as Riddick ranged farther afield in search of additional game.

He found out quite by accident that the fish were excellent bait for the Uzro giganticus that had, before their arrival at UV 6, been the top predator. The Uzro were a good source of furs and meat. The teeth and claws were useful, too. Nothing went to waste. Each Uzro Riddick brought back to the cave provided them with another chance to survive the next storm. Jackie rendered the fat from the beast for what it could be used for. She cleaned and worked the skins into clothing, blankets, and boots. Bones became tools; claws became knives… even the sinews and tendons were used for one purpose or another.

By the time the last of the prepared protein rations were gone Jackie was sure that they could survive here for as long as they were left alone.


	28. ReForged

A/N: This was a difficult chapter to write. It concerns Kyra. There's prison life and ugly stuff in this chapter. I warned you...

A Passage, 28

**Reforged**

She'd been broken, in a way. It seemed to her that this wasn't the first time either, but she couldn't remember the other times very clearly. Being 'Audrey' seemed like a lifetime away, and being 'Jack' hadn't been real, at all, anyway. The daze in her brain wasn't letting her think, and she wondered if she'd been a thinker before all this happened. Memory was a slippery thing, and presently she wasn't sure if she even had memories of her own to fall back on.

Her feet, currently bare, ached from walking on the metal ramp that was roughly grooved to provide purchase for thick-soled boots. Her hair was matted with the products of her treatment although her face was scrubbed clean. Each step jarred her bones although she didn't hurt as much as she thought she should after the ordeal she'd been through. Of course she was numb to the world. She could have been dying and not realized at this point. At least she was dressed now, even if it was a standard prison issue jumpsuit and nothing else.

After the very sharp, vivid moments of her rebirth, _the girl_ felt dull and empty. It was almost as if she hadn't fully woken up from Cryo as of yet. Not even the rattle of the chains as she walked could pierce the fog in her brain. Instead, a mass of confusion and despair battled with outright uncaring for dominance over her shattered soul, neither winning much ground.

The lanky Merc behind her watched her carefully. She was too docile for his sense of comfort. Her behavior had led to his overreaction as to how to treat her. He'd ordered her cuffed at the wrists and ankles with chains that would have held up to a strong man twice her size. He'd denied her shoes, on account of her skill with her feet. The jumpsuit was almost too small for her, forcing her to shuffle because she couldn't take a normal step without ripping it. He walked behind her with a gun at her back. But even that left him on edge.

Maybe it was the prison itself though. He was marching up to the massive front of the gates; heavy steel and marble-white concrete dominated and dwarfed the pair. Already, with more then half the docking path left to go, the main doors filled his vision, like they were made for giants to pass through. Prisons were usually bulky, oversized, and designed to intimidate, but Kova's jewel topped them all.

Not that the girl walking in front of him seemed to notice. That bothered him more than anything. Her former captain kept a very close watch on her as they slowly made their way to the waiting group at the gate. She was aware of the mass of cybernetic guards and the prison head waiting for them but couldn't be bothered to pick up her pace. Once the uncaring took over, she couldn't even get up the energy to feel – anything. That faintly disturbed her. The hollowness inside her being likely wasn't a good sign, she mussed.

The voice behind her startled her back to the present, "200K for delivery, 40K for transport, right?" The scruffy Merc known as Toombs asked.

"If the prints match up, Toombs. How many of your crew did you lose catching this one?" The tall black-haired man with pale skin asked humorously.

"Not a one, Willis. For a change I didn't lose a single one. So you sure you want her? She's borderline juvie."

Willis laughed, "Juvie or not, Jack B. Badd was tried as an adult with two meditated murder counts. The Chillingsworth estate demanded she be sent here. We do our part."

She took everything in even if she couldn't properly react to it in her current state. The prison boss was tall and thin with the beginnings of a belly from his desk job, but clearly possessed a proper strength that whispered of a mercenary past. His hair was styled in a no-nonsense style that suited his once-angular face. The office job was showing on him though, as the slight layer of flab could only come from rich food and safety. He lacked the raw leanness that came from life chasing in the stars. Leanness that Toombs still possessed in spades.

Then there was the prison itself. A behemoth of a building, squatting all steel and concrete like a mound of frozen blubber over the desolate landscape. Barbed wire topped the various jutting towers and ledges where wary guards waited with their weapons trained for trouble. Even here she could see the bleached out spots where other 'trouble' had been dealt with and the blood cleaned almost completely off the stained white cement. If not for the strong bleach spots leaving marks of whiter areas on the white walls she wouldn't have realized exactly how far those guns trailed on her reached.

She felt a bit more like her old self as they crossed the threshold into the outer yard and the large gates creaked closed. Another type of stain joined the blood splatters, telling that some prisoners gained privileges and access to this open courtyard although only guards were present at the moment.

Maybe it was the danger that sharpened her senses. The place was creepy. It was white and gray with blue-white lights. Bleached cement, steel, faint remnants of old blood-stains made more visible by the brightness of the spot-cleaned floors and walls, bluish-purple graffiti stains half painted-over dotted the perimeter. The same theme continued unchanged as they passed through another armored door into a smallish room lined with guards. Bile rose in her throat as she finally looked at them.

The guards had weapons and communication systems grafted into their bodies. It seemed fairly consistent, but a few of the cyborgs seemed to have custom gear alongside the standard complement. One of the prison support staff, notable by the very lack of implants, took her hand and pressed it against the handprint plate on the counter. A gender-less computer voice chimed, "Biodata match confirmed."

Something snapped in her head. Suddenly everything was very clear and crisp. The odor of the men and machines in the room, the feel of the stiff fabric against her raw skin, the smooth feel of the plate under her hand, the intense hazel eyes of the support person whose almost overly warm hand was gripped tightly around her chained wrist. It seemed that every sense was heightened. And it dawned on her that she was going to rot here for a crime she had no memory of.

"Process her and inform the Chillingsworth estate that the prisoner has been delivered," Willis ordered. "Come Toombs, I'll cut you a check for your expenses and contact the guild about your account."

She felt the hand release her but made no move to lift her own off the cool plate on the counter. Those eyes turned away and she blinked. The man at the counter bent to his work, his slightly curly brown hair looking quite organic and out of place here. She focused on the noise of the computer as it beeped in response to the clerk's entry, but couldn't miss the sounds as her former captain walked away with Willis. Behind her the guards trained their weapons on her back with a series of soft clicks, adding a mental weight through the threat of violence that pinned her down where she stood.

When the clerk turned to her and spoke she realized that his somewhat boyish look hid a harsh and tough personality. "Prisoner Z954728-G, you are now informed of your rights. You will be allowed one hour of outdoor exercise, daily. You are allowed 1200 calories, daily. For processing you will be provided one new set of clothing." The clerk hit a button on his console and a gate in the far wall opened. "The rules will be posted in the next chamber. Memorize them. Breaking any rule will get you one month of lockdown. Move forward."

The guards advanced on her, giving her no choice. She walked forward into the next room. It was tiled in white with a number of nozzles built into the walls. Bright light flooded the chamber. She heard the door close behind her.

A voice over the speakers crackled, "Step into the alcove so that the chain catcher secures your shackles, Z954728-G. You have 30 seconds to comply."

She located the alcove and stepped into it with her arms out as far as they could go. It was unnecessary however as the robotic arms secured and removed the chains from both wrist and ankles.

"Step into the center of the room, strip, and drop everything into the chute to your left," she was ordered.

She felt a blush coming on and squished it down violently. Her face set like stone she complied with the directions, removing the only thing she was wearing. After a split second she bent over and picked up the ugly greenish jumpsuit from the floor and wadded it into a ball before tossing in into the chute. Only then did she spot the rules posted in the wall above it. Her mind focused on the writing like it needed the distraction.

The voice crackled over the speakers again, "Delousing. Do not breathe." The room filled with white mist. She held her breath. "Full body scan commencing. Do not move until indicated."

She focused on the posted rules ahead of her. The rules were simple and complex at the same time. They read:

_**1) Follow orders**_

_**2) No physical contact**_

_**3) No contraband **_

Clothes wrapped in film that melted to the touch were slid into the room. She noted that in addition to the jumpsuit were underpants (no bra though), boots with buckles (no laces), and ankle socks (too short to do anything with) inside the film packet. The jumpsuit had her number on it.

"Dress." She quickly did so and was surprised to discover that the clothes fit perfectly. Unlike the jumpsuit Toombs put her in, this one was brushed and soft against her skin although still new. It wasn't overly tight nor overly loose either. The boots seemed to cushion her feet and felt like they had always been hers. This was an unexpected pleasure, as she'd never had shoes that fit so well before. "Turn to your left and follow the guards, Z954728-G," there was a pause, "Have a nice day." The final statement made her cringe. There was nothing nice about this place.

The guards on the other side of the door were decked out in heavy armor and carried big guns much like the others she had seen. But the stance of them was relaxed and open. One of them looked at her, "Z954728-G? You got a name you'd like to be called by?"

She blinked in surprise. "Kyra."

"Okay, Kyra. Your cell is in block G. Follow me." The other three guards fell into place behind her as she walked. The speaker had a rather pleasant voice and spoke like he was just shooting the breeze with her; "As long as you follow orders you will do fine. Cross a guard, Kyra, and we'll make your life living hell. The hacks are bastards for the most part, better to leave them alone and let them do their jobs. We search before every exercise period. You can stay inside if you want, but that might make some guards nervous. Let me give you some advice. This is a co-gender slam. Watch your back. Some of the inmates are hard-core. You are in a woman's ward, but don't think that protects you. We observe physical contact of any kind any both parties get lockdown first offence, re-assignment second. You don't want to know what we do on the third."

Silence filled the rest of the walk, except of the other inmates who whooped and hollered as they passed. The guards behind her swept the air with their guns to quiet them.

The woman's ward she was led to was just like the rest of the slam. Bleached cement, bars, and blue-white lights all marred with faint marks of prison life. She was shown into a cell. Number 28-G she noted. Another woman sat in a corner as far away from the door as possible. She was thin, perhaps several years older, and could have been beautiful at one time. Kyra moved over to the unclaimed bunk. The mattress was rolled up and stained. She didn't want to know what the stains were from. There was no blanket or pillow. The guards closed the gate.

"Your cell-mate is Trish. She should leave you alone as long as you stay away from her. The last gal here lost her eyes because she wouldn't back off. Trish just came out of 3 months of lockdown." He directed his next comment at the other woman, "Trish, this is Kyra. She's new here. She's not like the other woman we bunked you with. You behave for a week and we'll take the mitts off. Understand?" The woman looked at the guard with eyes like tar pits, held up her hands, which were bound tightly in heavy, soft, oversized mitts, and nodded. The guards walked off leaving Kyra alone with someone who appeared to be half crazed.

Kyra had to fight back her despair and panic. She would not cry. Never again.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Toombs followed Willis into his plush office and accepted the drink offered in good humor so that he'd have something to do while he waited for his check. The display of rich living made his gut burn. What gave fat heads like Willis the right to live so high and well on the backs of people like him, like Toombs, who risked their lives to bring in scum to fill his coffers.

The prison boss turned his back on the merc long enough to imprint a draft for the man's expenses. "So tell me how you caught her, hum?" Willis asked as he handed over the payslip for the shipping fee. Moments later there was a beep that caused him to look down.

Toombs kept his mouth shut tight and his eyes narrowed.

Willis raised an eyebrow in question but added, "The Guild has credited your account, pending the Chillingsworth family's approval."

Toombs grunted a response. Dealing with getting paid always tightened his tongue. He and Willis went back a ways, and he really had no reason to doubt the man, but still. They were on opposite sides of the fence now, and he knew that getting or staying too close to any one prison boss was trouble.

"I wouldn't worry, my friend. They always pay before they play, you know this." Willis joined him with his own drink. "Well?"

"Jack B. Badd is Audrey Johastein, Carl Johastein's brat. A trouble maker, Warden. Don't let her get near any computers or she'll have this place in chaos before you know what hits you," Toombs sat on the corner of the expensive desk. "Her father gave her to me to train, but I don't think he realized she'd killed anyone. I can't just abide by letting her go free knowing what she did."

Willis studied him. "Did you train her?"

"What?" Toombs stood back up, "Hell no. As soon as I got the alert I contacted you, old chum. I've only had her for a little while -- "

"Bullshit, Toombs. Johastein put out on the wire that his girl was in the Guild now, nearly a year ago. I don't care how much time your line of work keeps you in Cryo, A year is more than enough time to train someone. Is she likely to be a problem?"

Toombs looked at the prison boss, his face showing his shrewd side, "Well. The computer thing she picked up long before I got my hands on her. She knows the right end of a gun to be on; I'll give her that. And she's right quick with her feet. Crafty and inventive in a fight, but your guards can handle her, Willis. She's no Riddick, Okay?"

"Riddick? Why bring up that ghost, Toombs?"

"He was held here for a time, wasn't he?" the Merc inquired.

Willis raised an eyebrow. "Not on my watch, but lets look, shall we?" He turned to his computer and pulled up the file. "Yes, It does seem he was held here. Killed my predecessor on the way out, in fact. Lost us our triple max status. But that was before my time and of no interest to me." The communications device beeped. "Ah, the guild has transferred the funds to your account. Our business is concluded."

Toombs finished his drink in one swift move, "Nice to work with you again, buddy. I can find my own way out." Something told him that Kyra might just be more trouble then these folks were ready to deal with, and that being the case he wanted to be half a galaxy away when the she-hell-cat exploded.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kyra found life in prison depressing.

Her cellmate, Trish, once she calmed down, was not really that bad or difficult to get along with most of the time. By day, the dark haired wisp of a woman was quiet and often stared off into space while Kyra tried to burn off her natural excess of energy by doing one sort of exercise or another. Exercise became her past time. Most nights Kyra wasn't even bothered by her cellmate as she slept although she wasn't sure Trish ever even moved at times.

The guards were another story. It seemed that the nice ones disappeared after the first day never to return. Instead she got a rotation of sadistic, cruel bullies that made her want to crawl out of her own skin but never actually allowed anyone in the cellblock to go without their "required" hour outside in the dog run. The only upside was the nearly painfully hot showers that she was allowed after her hour outside. Those showers let her scrub the feeling of the guard's hands off of her so that she could spend the other 17 waking hours somewhat normally.

Then there was the prison food. If one could call the various brownish-gray, greenish-gray, or whitish-gray blobs food. Gross. At least it usually didn't smell and had no flavor. She dutifully choked down what she was given and tried not to imagine what it might have been at one time. She was allowed all the water she wanted, if she didn't mind too much where it came from.

But the worse bit was that there was little to do. She could have spent her days sleeping like many others did, but she disliked her bunk. The stains made her flesh crawl and she couldn't stand the thought of being on the mattress when the lights were up. As a result, she spent as little time on it as she could. She wasn't allowed paper, pens or pencils; books or computers although she knew others in the cellblock had access to them. Besides she couldn't imagine sitting still long enough to read anything. She found herself needing to _move_ until she was exhausted.

For a week, things settled into a mind numbing rhythm. Lights up, full body search, one hour outside in the dog run, shower, eat first third of the glop for the day, exercise, eat, exercise, eat, exercise, lights out… Kyra might have settled into the routine and never bothered a soul again, but for the fact that after a week Trish got her hands undone from the mitts she wore. It seemed that the mitts being off made a huge change in Trish's personality. At least at night.

At first the soft voice murmured nonsense. Kyra ignored it and slept. After another week the soft voice begin talking about its experiences. Kyra tried to ignore it, but her dreams were filled with nightmares about large faceless men with explosive tempers that splattered into rooms covered with clumps of flesh and blobs of blood. After two weeks of this nightly torment, Kyra was startled to hear the voice quietly call out "Kyra?" She ignored it and went to sleep.

This persisted for weeks, how many Kyra could not say, having lost count at some point.

Finally though, Trish sat down on the floor just beside Kyra's bed and looked at her in the dim light. The voice was still soft but there was an urgency to it that hadn't been there before, "Kyra?" It began, "the guards are gonna do something bad to you, Kyra."

Kyra rolled over so that she was facing the wall even though her instincts screamed at her that it wasn't safe to do so. Silently she wished that Trish would go away, back over to her own bunk, at least.

But Trish was not deterred, "You don't even have to provoke them, you know that, don't you?" the voice in the dark paused. "They have a thing going, to make extra money for the prison. They must be waiting for your hair to grow out some…."

At the end of her rope, Kyra rolled back over and glared daggers at the woman, "Go to sleep, Trish." Their eyes locked and Kyra growled under her breath before forcing her body back into facing the wall.

"You been raped, Kyra?" the woman asked, "I mean like, beaten and stuff?"

Kyra sighed, "Give it a rest, Trish."

"My husband beat me…."

"Yeah, you told me. I'd tell you I'm sorry, but I really don't care. And yes, I know you killed him. Big deal."

"Okay. Why are you here? You never said," Trish acted like speaking to someone's back was a normal everyday thing to do.

"I didn't do anything. There's nothing to confess. Go to sleep."

"They must be desperate for new meat if you never did anything. What did they try you for, Kyra?"

Kyra sat up. She looked at Trish and shook her head, "I told you, I don't fucking know. I wasn't there. Alright? They fucking accused me and convicted me but no body's ever told me what for. Just drop it." No wonder the last woman in this cell messed with Trish; she would not shut up.

"You had to have done something."

"I was fucking born! Okay? Life _sucks_. Now, leave me alone and _shut_ up."

Trish's eyes filled with tears, "I'm sorry. I guess that's why you're here, huh?" Kyra growled again, lay down, and put her back to the dark-haired woman. There was silence for about 30 seconds. "Kyra? You know the guards are gonna do something bad to you, right?"

"Yeah, I got that impression. They can't break me Trish. They'll have to kill me first." But Kyra once again did not sleep that night. She knew that something was planned for her, and whatever it was it would challenge her sanity just as surely as it had taken Trish's. Her mind could think of all sorts of horrible things that they could do. What loomed large among them was the fate she fled from on Sigma 3. Her blood ran cold.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The wave over the system reached Carolyn Fry at her post in the Captain's chair. Normally the news out of Kova flit right past her and she paid it no mind, but the image that greeted her this morning made her stop and hit the back tab. 'My God! Is that Jack?' she thought as the blue-eyed wild-haired woman stared up at her. 'What the hell happened? I though Jack and Richard were together.' The newly appointed pilot begin to shuffle through the notices on her board looking for evidence of Riddick's capture only to end up empty handed.

She stood up; "I've got a private call to make. Suza, you have the bridge."

"Yes, Sir," came the reply to Fry's back as she quickly returned to her quarters. The walk through the softly lit Elemental ship normally soothed her nerves, but she had a feeling that only a call to Helion would do this morning. The door into her suite buzzed open as she approached.

Aereon looked up at her; "You are upset."

"Danm right, I'm upset. Did you see the wave out of Kova?" Carolyn didn't pause for the older Elemental to answer, instead moving to the private com and plugging in the direct code to her friend, Imam. "There's no way in Hell that should have happened, Aereon. Jack was with someone that would have died before he let her be hauled off to a slam."

Aereon pulled up the item in question and read over it calmly. "I'm sure there is much more to this than I've been told."

"The Imam, Please," the pilot ignored the implied scold by her boss/companion in favor of the view screen. Aereon came up behind her, and Fry could feel the Elemental's approach. She waved her back, knowing that the ambassador wouldn't take the hint. "Abu? Did you see the wave from Kova?"

The slightly distorted voice greeted her with, "Ms. Fry, this is unexpected. Kova? Did you say. Let me check my mail." The dark man turned away for a moment. "Lujjan and Ziza give their love, by the way. Ah here it is, Jack B. Badd is in Koran Penal for the murder of – Um, this can't be right. Jack and Smyth died out of Aquila when their ship's systems failed. I received the insurance draft as his next-of kin."

Carolyn raked her fingers through her hair, pulling it out of its carefully coifed state, "You sure Jackie was on that boat with Smyth?"

The look she received made her feel sick, and suddenly she was glad for the silent presence of her older lover behind her, "No, I wasn't there when the ship left. But I assumed that she'd be aboard." Imam swallowed, "There was a woman that came here a few months ago, claiming to be Jack. Her story was disjointed. If I had been able to make her stay I would have helped her, but she climbed out the window and was gone before I could secure her legal status here."

"Gods, Imam. What if it _was_ Jack? Is there anything we can do?" Fry knew in her heart that the girl was beyond their reach now. No one walked out of Kovan Penal. Did Riddick dump Jack just before he left Helion?

The man screen gave her a grave look; "I can try, but don't get your hopes up. I was sure that it was an imposter, Carolyn, but I don't know anymore. What is worse, her being dead or her being in prison?"

"Just do what you can, Abu. I'll keep in touch."

"I will look forward to it."

Carolyn turned off her com and turned so that Aereon was holding her before the sob broke free from her throat. The older woman hugged her tight, "If you'd just tell me everything, I might be able to help." Carolyn shook her head. She couldn't tell, not yet. Not until she knew for sure if Riddick had done the unthinkable.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It was no surprise when one morning different guards were at her cell door telling her to step up against the wall, or when they cuffed her. It was no surprise at all. She'd seen them do it with others in the cellblock. What did surprise her was that Trish threw herself at one of the cybernetic, soulless bastards and got knocked unconscious for the effort. "Get up and I'll kill you," he told Trish's crumpled form.

"She's not getting up. I'll call for the hacks. Looks like she'll be spending more time in lockdown," the other replied.

"It's too bad, she's a money maker."

Kyra stood facing the wall with her eyes closed. "Come on, move." She felt a gun poke her side. There was the temptation to strike out, to go down fast. Maybe they would kill her. Or maybe she'd end up in an even worse situation. Kyra glanced at Trish and noticed a faint blood smear on the wall where her head had hit. "I said move. Don't make me ask again." The guard pushed a stun-stick into her ribs and gave her a quick jolt.

"Okay, I'm going!" Kyra forced her body forward away from the guard and toward the cell door. "You didn't need to hurt her. She can't even think clear anymore."

"You worry about your own ass, inmate. The hacks will take care of her."

Kyra gathered up her rage into a tight ball and held onto it as she walked. They took her through a gate that she'd not been through before, into a clean medlab. The hack there looked her over. "New meat? Nice and fresh, isn't she?"

"Yeah, wouldn't mind paying for some myself, actually," the guard with the stun-stick leered.

"Okay, sugar. Move over here. We don't want anything unexpected happening or any of our clients coming down with something fatal." Kyra just stood and looked blankly at the medic. "Fine. Fellas, you get samples of this one. I'll turn the cameras off." The medic turned away.

Kyra lashed out, grabbing the stun-stick from the guard closest to her and zipping him at full power. She ducked the other guard as he leveled his gun. Her free hand closed around the connecting tubing where the controls hooked into his nervous system and a quick tug ripped them loose. The man let out a squeal like a girl, as if his gonads were connected into the weaponry too. A blow to the head dropped the vocal guard to the floor. Kyra turned to take on the hack and met a face full of gas.

"I knew you'd be trouble the moment I set eyes on you," the medic sneered.

Kyra's legs gave way. "Fuck you all. I'm gonna kill every last one of you," she vowed from her kneeling location on the floor. She'd do it too, if she could just get her legs to respond.

"Today you're not." The hack laughed. "No, today you get to go to the warden's private party. He was really hoping you'd behave, but the plans allow for you to go in chains. The guests won't mind. None of the Chillingsworth clan wanted you free to roam anyhow," the hack walked around behind her out of view.

Kyra was picked up and put onto the examination table. The medic poked and prodded, analyzed and injected. "There, no diseases, no accidents. You are in good shape for someone turned in by Toombs. He must have liked you." The medic turned away. The stunned guard was back on his feet but the injured one was still doubled over clutching his arm to his mid-section. Clicking his tongue, the hack crossed over to the injured fellow, "You are stupid. Come over here and I'll patch you up."

"Samples still on the menu?" The standing guard eyed Kyra over.

"Yeah, cameras are off. She did attack you. I'll report her for a month lockdown and recommend that they move her to double-max. Go ahead, this will likely be your only chance."

"I'm gonna chain her ass down. Which transport table matches the décor being used for the party?"

"The brass-toned one. Willis is trying to impress."

"Snobbish bastard, isn't he. I suppose the guards are all in dress armor?"

"You got it." The other guard screamed again as the medic began cruelly working on his cybernetic systems. "Shut the fuck up. It's your own damn fault."

The guard came back with the transport table. He locked Kyra's arm down and uncuffed her wrists long enough to get the clothes off before locking her into the brass restraining device. He worked quickly not sure about how long the gas would weaken her. After getting her secured he patted her face and smiled at her. "Very pretty." Kyra slit her blue eyes as she glared at him. The table did not seem to leave her exposed enough for him to do anything. She soon learned that looks were deceiving.

Kyra's position on the holding table rapidly went from secured to displayed as the guard adjusted the table's configuration using a series of buttons built into its the left side. The fastenings for her arms and legs extended to the point of being excruciating.

She swallowed back protest. 'Pain, I can use the pain.'

The guard prodded between her legs with the extended grip of his stun-stick to judge her reactions to being forced to yield to something large and hard. More agony. It fueled her rage and anger.

She snapped at his nose when he got too close. He pulled back just in time to avoid relinquishing it to her teeth.

"Wanna play rough, huh?" He pulled the stun-stick out and flipped it around before zapping her with it. She jerked. He laughed. "Yeah, let's play rough. They're gonna zap you anyhow." She slowly lifted her head and glared at him. "As long as you don't bruise," he mumbled as he adjusted the weapon's intensity. "Oh, you can scream…. No one's gonna give a shit." He put the stun-stick against her thigh and moved it up teasingly, trying to get some reaction.

Kyra did not give an inch.

He paused, giving her a last chance to beg or something…

She spat in his eye.

He angrily shoved the weapon up hard into her and turned it on, causing her to convulse uncontrollably. Electric shock flooded her senses. Kyra fought to keep from blacking out. She was almost gone when he pulled it out. "Fuck you," she groaned.

"What did you say?"

It was Kyra's turn to laugh although the sound was bitter, "Fuck. You."

He raised his hand to hit her, "No. Remember she's going to Willis' party…." the hack reprimanded. The guard grumbled and settled for zapping her again.

Kyra could feel the stun-stick was slick with moisture when he slapped it against her ribs and jolted her while turning up the intensity. She felt like the jerking was gonna rip her limbs out of their sockets. Her eyes rolled up into her head as she slipped into blackness without a sound.

She woke in a processing room, still locked down to the brass toned table. Two attendants were working a series of robotic arms. She was gagged. What woke her was the feeling of needing to take a shit, but she quickly realized that they were flushing her out. She felt sick. "I hear this one killed Antonia Chillingsworth," one of the hacks stated.

"Really? The bitch-witch herself? Damn."

"Watch your mouth, the entire Chillingsworth clan is coming to see the warden. That's why she's here."

The attachment pulled away, went into a cold spray and hosed her off before dunking into some side bin filled with a liquid that smelled like a med-lab. Kyra tried to lift herself away from it as it came back at her. "Looks like she's awake. Stun her, will you?"

"I really hate it when they make this difficult." The first hack forced a stun tipped arm into her side and gave her a jolt. She crashed back down and the second hack resumed his flushing. She screamed in anger behind the gag. "I'm reading foreign organic matter, you need to flush out everything." Kyra felt bile rise in her throat. That asshole had raped her after she blacked out. She struggled.

"See, I hate it when the Doc lets the G-ward cyborgs handle the goods. Now we have to run her through the prep again, so that she looks nice and ready for the party." He moved the arm away from her, sprayed her off again and re-dipped in the sterilizing agent. Her struggles got her another jolt from the stun tip. The nozzle flared out and pressed into her again, stretching her to eliminate any folds that would hinder the cleaning process. She groaned as it filled her with liquid.

"I had a feeling the Doc let the boys play with this one…. Look at how colored she is."

"She is pretty. I guess it won't be so bad to put her through prep again, huh?"

"Dude, you are sick. I don't know how you can stand to keep doing this job, week after week."

The second hack laughed, "Hey, it's better that being locked down as a guard here forever. I hear that no other prison hires cyborgs." He paused the arm for a moment and watched Kyra writhe in discomfort. "See there, that's not too ugly to watch."

"Yeah, I heard that too." The first hack wasn't even looking at what the second one was doing. Kyra groaned again. "Hey, man…. Back it off before you tear something." Kyra felt the pressure ease as the arm unplugged and the water drained. "Okay, she's clean. Do the other hole."

The process repeated with another solution, clearly designed for the purpose of removing 'foreign organic matter.' Kyra fought the feelings by latching onto her anger. Once that was done she was rinsed off again, blown dry, and moved to another set of arms. This station was designed to stimulate. Kyra focused on the lights overhead and ignored what was being done. The second hack knew his way around these machines just about as well as Betsy knew her way around a woman's body with her fingers. 'It's not me.' Kyra told herself as the hack forced her to respond to what he was doing. Thankfully he didn't push her to tears. The last thing that the hacks did was to spray her down with a fine mist that made her skin glisten, before they called for a group of guards dressed up in their finest. She was silently escorted into a concealed hall.

The passage was a short one leading into a large well-appointed office. Inside milled a group of people, all clearly related to one another. Willis stood out as being the only one there who looked different. "Ah, here we go. I apologize that it took so long to get her here. You know safety is my first priority."

The assembled Chillingsworth clan gathered around her. The youngest of them spoke first, "So can we kill her?"

"Of, course. If that is what you want to do, but you will lose any monies that might be earned off of her services if that is what you chose," Willis hung back behind them.

"No. It is not. She shall suffer as our Antonia must have suffered," an older rather regal woman spoke up, "Bring us the party toys, Willis. It is time to play."

The 'party toys' were among the most horrific things Kyra had ever seen. Torture tools. Metal and rubber, stained from previous use. They were barbed, spiked, twisted things of various application, none of which would be pleasant. Kyra knew she'd be lucky to survive unscathed, unscarred… Willis wheeled the assortment over on a plush lined cart. Apparently the Chillingsworth bunch and done this before. "I want to cut her," the first one who'd spoken said as she picked up a small, dull knife. The item created paper-cut-like marks across Kyra's midsection, a few of which drizzled blood. It would hurt later.

Other people began selecting things. Some burnt, some shocked, others slapped or snapped. No part of her was off limits. Kyra tried to retreat into the safety of her mental fortress but found the unexpected and chaotic nature of the onslaught, the variety of the pain induced, made it very difficult. And the elders picked the most innocent looking of things; spray bottles filled with salt water or spiced oils. Landing in the existing wounds the liquids increased the pain without actually causing additional damage. Even though she'd been violated before, those responsible had concentrated on a part of her. These people were targeting everything. The agony was everywhere.

Kyra's only recourse was to fall into it, loose her _self_ in the pain, find some method to draw strength from it. 'Fuck sanity, fuck normal society, I'm gonna come back and kill the lot of you for this.'

She had no idea how long it lasted. Her flesh burned still from the deeds both from heat and irritation. Kyra imagined that she looked like shit, bloody and bruised, laced with cuts and burns that would become ugly scars. But she hadn't passed out. The Chillingsworth clan had tired of her before they broke her.

Willis was not happy when she opened her ice blue eyes and looked at him after he'd taken out the gag thinking she was unconscious. "Still awake? I'm – surprised…"

"Fuck off and _die_," she whispered with a voice raw from suppressed screams.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Defiant to the end. Well, we can't have that attitude in light security. The Rychengoll brethren will delight in your strength down at double max. Their experiments often require someone who enjoys pain."

Kyra wanted to get her hands around his well-fed neck. "You don't know what your fucking with, Willis. I'm not the girl who killed Chillingsworth, but I will be the one to kill you!"

The color drained out of his already pale face. He'd been threatened before but not by someone who had just been tortured to the extent that this one had been. He motioned for the guards to remove her before she found some way to carry out her threat.

"I'm gonna bring you down, Willis!" She screamed as the guards pushed her out into the hall, "Hell won't even take what's left over when I'm done!" On the inside Kyra was pleased at the effect her voice had as it echoed back toward the prison boss' office.


	29. The 'Verse of Toombs

**A/N**: This chapter relies on a _twisted_ version of Toombs chase log… It's um, one that relies on Toombs rather loose recounting of time. This is what happens when you spend most of your time in Cryo, kiddies. Right. So out with the old crew, in with the new one. Or something like that. The chapter covers the remainder of five years after Kyra is left at Kovan Penal from Toombs' POV, leading into CoR.

_A Passage: 29_

**The 'Verse of Toombs**

He'd just walked out of the prison Boss' office when one of the other high-ranking visitors motioned for him to come closer. The man spoke with a smooth but low voice, "I've got a pickup for you, if you are interested. The con is already in holding, and all you need to do is pick the boy up, bring him here, and I'll see you get 150K. I'll pay all expenses, fines are taken care of, upgrade to your communications to act as a vid log, no cost to you."

Toombs was intrigued, "What's the catch?"

The other man smiled a cold smile; "I'm _particular_ about who handles my goods. I need the transport documented, and although I trust you to not abuse the delicate fruits of my labor, I must insist on the vid log."

"Singled me out, huh? Okay, I'll get your – boy – for you. I'm in a hurry to get off this rock, so make the install an express order." Toombs had dealt with this kind before; Kova was filled with them. The man inclined his head in response as the merc moved off down the hall.

"_Day one: Trucking a bag of shit to the Korovan penal facility. Case you're wonderin' why I'm all smiles… that's on account of my employer. You see, I ain't the entrepreneur in charge this time. Somebody callin' the shots wants all this 'documented'. Liability, my ass." _

It took an extra four hours for the hacks at the prison to show up at his unnamed C-19 undercutter to install the equipment. If he'd known from the get-go that this would delay his leaving Kova he might have told the potential employer where to shove it. But hindsight is 20-20, as they say. He kept his crew, such as it was, close at hand but let the tagger-on from Helion think they had a day stopover. As long as it got rid of the wanna-be, he was fine with a little white lie every now and then. Betsy, Curly, Greene and Lisp stayed quiet, knowing that opening their traps would end up bad with the mood he was in.

So to make it up to them, as they shed Kovan dirt for space, Toombs told them about the quick job. It consisted of retrieving and returning a prisoner to the prison they were leaving. Three days, tops. An easy 150K. With a 5 way split that worked out to 10k a day. Not bad for an easy payout. His 'boys' deserved that, after their stellar performance with Miss Badd. The hop required time in Cryo, about a week all told. Toombs let Greene handle it.

"_Two days out. Convict in the back's named Speedo. Don't know where he got that. Looks pretty fuckin' slow at the moment. Shut up back there! Idiot keeps grousin' about the food and restraints. Korovan's payin' out 350 for this skinny fuck! Two hundred of which goes into my employer's pocket. Pretty shitty math, if you ask me. Last time Toombs is a work-for-hire. Did I just say that on camera? Oops."_

It left him with a bad taste in his mouth, knowing that the person who tipped him off got 50K more than he did. Of course he had to keep quiet about that little fact, or there'd be a riot on his boat. Luckily, only he and the prisoner were awake as Toombs decided that the dope out should be his responsibility this go. It was only a week hop after all.

Besides, Greene had not gotten the shit right last time and he'd woken up feeling it. One sure thing his last computer hack and been good for was the working of the cryosystems. When she mixed the dope he'd slept like a baby and woke up feeling ready to go.

He frowned at that thought. Suppose, then, that he'd just have to take over doing this shit himself until he found another computer hack. Crap.

"_Three days out. Rolled into Korovan to dump the dipshit, and la-di-da. They tell me they got a first-rate bounty of 500K…on a familiar face – Richard B. Riddick. Makes me wonder what they'd offer on Crematoria. Ain't it a peach when your work lets you visit with old friends?"_

So, Okay. He lied. Someone from Johastein's camp told him that there'd be a 500K bonus, when and if he rounded up the con and could prove that he ghosted William J. Johns. But not from the Jo-man… That was to be kept quiet. Right. By the time he reached Lupus 5 it would be all over the network. Apparently Johns' security link had been breached by a highly skilled cyberhacker. No Shit? Yeah. He had a feeling that the same hacker had done in the _Kubla Kahn_ because by the time he'd been picked up off the dump the entire control systems had been royally fucked over by a clever little bit of virtual viral engineering.

He highly suspected one Jack B. Badd, otherwise known as Audrey Johastein, as the hacker. The real one, not the one cooped up in Kovan penal. Who knew what she was up to? She was still out there, likely raising more hell than the big bad was. But without proof he had nothing but his gut feeling. He needed to locate Johns' Guild linkup. To find that, he needed to locate the shitty little lifeboat that the _Kubla Kahn_ had discarded back into space. Talk about a needle in a haystack. He needed to find out if the link was still transmitting and hope to God that the drifting tin can was still near civilized space.

A day stopover on Kova let him do some digging. He still had some credit with the Chillingsworth bunch, and they were more than happy to allow him access to what was left of the _Kubla Kahn's_ computer records. Because he really didn't know much about analysis and tech shit he made a copy and thanked the grieving clan for the assistance.

Unfortunately before he could get his crew back in space, Lisp and Greene got into a bit of a tussle with some of the cyborg 'Golls and ended up needing major medical attention. He didn't have time for this shit. Quick vote with Betsy and Curly later, the trio decided to get out before the bills started coming in.

"_Four days out. Time to get down to business—my own business. I decided to keep the cameras, make a record of it. Nobody ever met a merc with personality before. I think I'll lay it down for 'em, give folks a touch of class. First things first. Head for Lupus Five. Gotta dig up a new crew."_

To make it even he kept the extra equipment he'd gotten on loan and hightailed it back to Guild Headquarters before anyone could complain. Now, hopping across the Arm from Kova to Lupus was not one of those little just-a-few-days trips, even in his state of the art C-19. Not that it was a 6-month sleep like with commercial boats, or anything. No, the C-19 was faster than that, six times faster. But Toombs never counted his time on ice, because it was a reminder that he'd already outlived everyone he grew up with. He'd spent a lifetime on ice already, thank you very much, and that was too depressing to dwell on. Instead, for every week he spent under, he counted a day. Then he usually promptly forgot about it. He did not need the reminder that he was something like sixty-three already.

"_Eight days out. Instructions for hirin' mercs. Step one—promise big bounties and big commissions. Every merc is looking out for number one, and I'm a generous man. Don't even mind sharin' as long as the big dog gets his cut. Step two—get good and drunk and find a young lady who enjoys the pleasure of your company." _

Nearly before the craft had settled his remaining crew, being Curly, split to spend his cut from both the 200K for Miss Badd and the 150K delivery. So the man went right to the good and drunk part? Hell, what good was the baby-faced shitrag? He hadn't located anything of use on Helion Prime, not even a lead as to where Marcus Smyth might have been while he was living planetside. Surely the man would have left traces someplace? Rented a flop? Had utilities? Ate? But Curly was no computer wiz, that was for sure.

So Toombs knew he needed to rustle up some old contacts. There was a Heidi Logan in his books that might have some use. With his luck, though… Well he had a feeling that he'd lost a fine bit of time with the looks of things around his old haunts, being as he decided to stay away from the hanger provided by Johastein now that the girl was no longer with him. The neighbors sure looked different than last time. How long was he on the _Kubla Kahn_ anyway? He turned to find his current pilot watching him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, doll? You looking for someplace new to sleep?"

"I expect that my old Captain isn't going to want me back in his bed, darlin'," she replied. "You do have a company flop, don't you Toombs?"

He forced the snarl off his face, " 'Course I do. I've got my own boat, don't I?" He turned and began heading up the twisting metallic passageways that littered the planet. "It even has a view, but only from my office. Where you _won't_ go. Got that?"

Betsy followed behind, and he knew that was only because she didn't want to waste her coin renting a flop when she could share his. "I wouldn't expect anything else. A captain has got to have his privacy, right? You treat me good, Toombs. Square cuts, nice fucks, what is not to like? I'll stick to the main area of the flop, darlin'."

Not that his flop was much of anything. It was utilitarian in style, mostly devoid of personal effects and done up in standard shades of gray. He had a tiny bed cubby, just large enough for a full-sized bed that realistically slept one and a half. He'd stayed with the near military-issue mattress and gray-green bedding. Across from the cubby was a counter with a hotplate and icebox. The icebox was a half-size affair that barely fit a week's worth of leftovers. Above the counter was a small cupboard and plate rack outfitted with 4 dingy, mismatched cups and a couple of heat resistant plates for re-heating stuff. Pans, still in the box, sat under the counter along with a few dry goods that couldn't make a full meal if they tried.

Rounding off the flop was a water closet and his office. The water closet was detached from the cubby/kitchen area and sat near the front door. His office sat near the back of the space and had the only window. Most of his stuff was in there behind a securely locked door. Toombs didn't really think of this place as home. Most mercs with the title of captain or marshal got a 'free' flop on Lupus 5 through the Guild. It was all a matter of having a ship or the clout to commander one at need. What he figured was, Betsy was trying to save up to buy a ship, and thus would leech off anyone she thought she could outsmart.

Ha. He was onto her game.

Tonight he'd finish off the booze in the cabinet, give Betsy that good fuck she was after and then go out and check out the local life. And maybe sometime in there he'd give Heidi Logan a buzz and see what was going on with her intel operation.

"_Nine days out. Hit the local card game with the dregs on Lupus Five. This tattooed asshole Asher sits down and starts jaw-jackin'…about how he's gonna take down Riddick. Then he says he'd deal with me later. Let's hope for his sake he's just talkin' about playin' cards."_

Well, that went just great. Curly sold him out to this Asher punk. Like the pair had a snowball's chance in hell of actually being competition in the Riddick chase. They had nothing, not even Jo-man's private number. No contacts, no clues. And he sure as shit wasn't providing them with any intel.

Toombs had retreated to the undercutter to get away from Betsy for a few hours because the woman was beyond clingy when drunk. And someplace had sold her a case of booze that she was intent on drinking by herself. He'd won more than a few UD's from the card game but the threat didn't sit well.

Curly better not come slinking back to his hanger and ask to get back into his crew after pulling this shit. He popped open a bottle of vodka and took a swig. He'd call Heidi. Yeah. That would be the thing to do, 'cuz she only worked with the best of the best, and he was one of like 5 people that had her private link. That qualified him for 'King Shit' if nothing else did. He took a deep breath and punched in the code.

A beep later a voice answered with, "Logan. This better be someone in the clear, because the secure line is only for top priority contacts."

Toombs didn't recognize the woman, "Um… Heidi? This is Toombs. Or do I have the wrong code?"

"Toombs?" There was a pause, "My God, Toombs… Oh shit, you don't know," the connecting Vid sprang to life and Toombs found himself face to face with Heidi's brat, Eva. Only Eva was grown up now and not the little kid he remembered. He blinked at her. "Mom always told me that once you got the situation with the 'Golls cleared up you'd be back. How you doing, Toombs?"

He ignored her question in favor of throwing out his own, "Don't know what, Eva? Where's you Ma?"

The dark haired woman's face fell, "She got on the wrong end of a gun, about 4 years back. She shouldn't've gone on the case, but the client insisted that she go. Damn bigwig asshole. Da hasn't been the same since." Her face lit back up a second later; "I got her business. Still running a tight ship here. Secure Intel, good prices, guaranteed leads. And your lifetime discount still applies. So what can I get for you?"

He smiled somewhat sadly at her, "Well, damn. I guess I missed that bit of news. Should I send something to your Da?"

"Roses. He takes them to the grave. It'll make him feel better."

Toombs nodded. "I'll make sure they are delivered local so they are fresh. Listen, you are right, I need some help. But not over comms. You know the addy of my flop?"

"Still on file."

His smile reappeared with more of a devious joy in it, "Meet me there, tomorrow. I'll give you the data and rundown face to face, Eva. You won't believe the story unless you see all the evidence for yourself."

She snorted. "Make sure you are decent this time. I don't need or want to see your dick. Once was enough for three lifetimes. And Toombs?" She waited for his raised eyebrow, "Welcome home."

He stared at the screen after it went blank. Maybe this was home after all. If home counted where your real buds were, and you owned a piece of it no matter how small. Damn. He hated this place. He hated most places. Hell, the only place he didn't hate, and he'd been through a lot of them, was deep cold space. The Vodka found its way back to his mouth and he drank. After a few more hours to make sure Betsy was good-an'-out, and that he was too drunk to care if she clung to him like an over-cooked noodle, Toombs headed back to his flop and passed out on the thin bed next to his pilot. After a morning fuck and a quick arrangement for a floral delivery to the Logan residence on Lupus 3, he wandered into his water closet and closed the door.

Betsy sputtered and bitched on the other side of the door over the cost for the five dozen white and yellow roses he was having delivered. "Shut your trap, woman. You have no clue what its about, and I don't want to fuckin' hear it!" Toombs turned on the tap so that it drowned her out.

He scrubbed his face. The grit from this place clung like static-filled Styrofoam. When it came right down to it, he really did hate Lupus 5. Even the water was gritty. He always felt like he needed to shower after he showered. He'd rather just feel like his face was dirt crusted today, so, no shower. Toombs grabbed his threadbare towel and wiped the moist grit off his face and raised his eyes to the mirror. The reflection of a weather-beaten, scruffy aging man glared back at him. His skin was beyond pasty, and dirty gray streaks marred his once-handsome golden brown hair. He needed some sun, some real rest, and without a doubt, some time away from stupid… He needed a plan to get rid of Betsy.

Instead he focused on shaving so that he'd look professional for Eva when she arrived. He was just finishing up when he heard the door to his flop open and Betsy ask, "And just who the Hell are you?"

"Eva Logan. I'm an intel professional, and you are?" Came the cool reply.

"Betsy. Toombs' pilot. Nice to meet you Ms. Logan." Betsy's voice had changed instantly. Toombs was surer than ever before that the bitch was trying to get her own ship. He narrowed his eyes and began straightening out his clothes. Fuck this. First Curly, then Betsy. What was with these monkeys? Back in the day, when he was a junior merc, you were loyal to your captain. Clearly, things had changed.

Behind him a shuffle led to a knock, "Come on, Luv. How long you gonna take in there?" Betsy whined. "Besides you got a business contact here, and it's not nice to keep 'em waiting."

He had hoped when Betsy woke that morning and discovered his 'fridge was empty that she'd split. He hadn't bothered to feed her in over 36 hours. But no. She was still there. It was time to ditch her. Now he just needed to figure out how. "Yeah, yeah… Just a mo'." He took a piss and fastened up, not looking at the scruffy, worn visage mocking him in the mirror. Leaving the water closet he looked at the older woman with her overflowing bounty of flesh threatening to escape her shirt and the younger woman behind her looking like she wanted to rip the pilot a new one. He ignored Betsy's glower in favor of moving his business into his office as soon as possible. "Eva," he greeted, "I want to talk to you. You got some trustworthy friends I can get to run some checks for me?"

Eva Logan had inherited one of the best free-lance intel gathering operations in the Lupus system. Like her mother, she was unassuming and not fussy. Her honesty and toughness combined together to make her easy to trust with information that Toombs would otherwise keep close to his chest. Once more, he knew that she kept close tabs on her crew of hacks so that they stayed honest too. He'd not used Logan Services the year before, having his own computer hack on board. And before that he'd spent time on ice to pay off his fine he owned to Kova for some regulation (or set thereof) he'd bent just a little too far. But now, well, he needed her.

Logan's face perked up, "Sure thing. What you need?"

He gathered her up with an arm motion, allowing Betsy into the toilet. The Logans didn't exactly like him, but if the daughter was anything like the mother she'd be a great investigator. Better than double-crossing Curly at any rate. And he had gotten on with the man of the house, enough that they could enjoy a beer in each other's company without shooting up the joint. Even after the man's sight had begun to fail and he retired, Toombs had felt somewhat welcome around the man. That was why he'd sent the roses this morning, much to Betsy's outrage.

"There was some records I liberated from the Kubla Kahn, when I was in the Chillingsworth employ. One of them was a scan of a captured ship," he started as they moved through his small home, "I'm trying to do a tribute to Marshal William Johns, see? I know he's MIA. Actually, I suspect he's dead but the company is covering it up so they don't have to pay the insurance settlement. But that is beside the point – Marshal Johns was the top man to beat, 17 for 17 in less than a year, not counting cryo, until this last case. No one else has come close. The guild needs to recognize his brilliance. It won't though, until someone nominates him for his work. I aim to do that. Will you help me?" He was feeding her the biggest load of bullshit he could manage, and he knew it sounded fake to all hell. But Logan was a smart lady. He could tell that she could pass it off as her own idea, and in her voice it would sound true.

The dark-eyed woman smirked at him. She'd known Toombs from the time she was knee high. One thing she knew about him was that he didn't give a shit about tributes to others. So she called him on it; "You are so full of shit, Toombs. What do you really want?"

"Okay, you caught me," He laughed. God, it was nice to be home. "This scan, well, the 'ship' and I use the term loosely, was an old Company lifeboat. At least 30 years out of date, see. They don't make 'em like that anymore. I need to find out where they were used in a certain sector and I need whoever is crawling through the Company database to be quiet about it. I'm sure Johastein won't like anyone poking around much."

Eva looked thoughtful, "This have to do with your 'secret' project? The one that is keeping you underfed and overworked?"

It didn't surprise him that she had kept tabs on his habits even if he hadn't contacted her about being a free merc again. That's just the way the Logan Services worked. Once a client, always a client. Toombs wouldn't be surprised if she had guessed at what he needed already. He ushered her into his office, closing the door so that Betsy wouldn't overhear, "Partly. Look I need to locate a man named Smyth. It's um… Marcus, I think," he dug through his stack of papers, "Yep. Marcus Smyth."

She snorted, "Dead. Toombs, you can't expect anyone to believe you when you chase ghosts. The insurance company paid out on that claim. It was big news. He owned a major gaming outfitter on Tangiers. His family had a shit-fit that he selected a total stranger as his next-of-kin. I remember reading the psych profile that stated after surviving a major life-changing event that some people latch onto other survivors like family. That was the only reason the New Meccan Imam got the payout."

While her knowledge about this 'Marcus Smyth' was a nice summary of the official reports and would have impressed just about everyone else, Toombs was the sort to brush off being awed and force the point. He caught her eye and tried to imprint on her psyche exactly how _top dog_ important this was, "Listen to me, Logan. I'm telling you this, and it's true. And -- God Damnit, Johastein believes me. So will you just listen?" He nearly grabbed a handful of her chestnut brown hair but restrained himself.

She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest as she raised an eyebrow. Everyone who was anyone knew about Carl Johastein. The name was equaled with _power_. His was a name that was whispered to green junior mercs like a boogeyman in a dark suit. One that had his own private army on call. Someone to avoid drawing the attention of if you valued you head attached to your neck. Johastein was a name that rarely came up in day to day business, as most mercs avoided involvement with the ruthless Company bigwig. Toombs had guts going to him and risking having his dick dusted to win the man's support.

Satisfied that she'd at least hear him out if not actually believe him, Toombs began putting his cards on the table, "It wasn't Smyth. Smyth never survived the crash. It was Richard B. Riddick. He's played this game before, Logan. I'm positive that the body found on the last ship 'Smyth' owned wasn't Smyth's body either. Somehow he slipped me, and I aim to find out where he went."

Her eyebrow was nearly in her hairline, "Riddick? You -- " she nearly choked in surprise, "think the bastard is still alive?"

Visions of Asher and Curly floated into Toombs mind. For a second he wondered if Eva was as honest as Heidi had been. "I fuckin' swear, Logan. Word leaves this office and I will kill you. He's fuckin' _mine_, got it? I'm taking him down. You want in? I'll let you and you alone into the final cut. But you gotta keep this to yourself."

That hit hard. "Whoa, Toombs!" Eva looked at the man that she'd fondly thought of as a 'family friend' or as close as one such as Toombs could be. He was slightly wild-eyed. Alarmed, she straightened up but remained against the wall, "Breathe, man." After a pause where it looked like he wasn't breathing at all she stood upright and came over to his desk, leaning towards him; "Come on, breathe." Toombs looked up at her, meeting her flinty brown eyes with their open honesty, and took a slow deep breath. Eva licked her lips, "Better?" He nodded. "Good. Now, you must realize that once my contacts start digging they are going to find out who you are really after. We'll deal with that once it happens. First off, tell me, what should they look for?"

Toombs took another deep breath. There, that felt more like he was in control. He knew from looking into Eva's eyes that she was like Heidi, her mother's daughter. Honest and true. Right. Time to spill, "Audrey Johastein was and is a computer wiz. I'm positive that both Smyth's and Riddick's records are altered. And maybe even her own records, if what I pulled off at Kova was any indication. I've been trying to locate that lifeboat, because Johns' Guild Link was on it. It had to be, because the transmission for the altered records had to be made through his signature or they wouldn't have taken at such a deep level. I mean; every civilian, Guild, Company, and military record was altered. Only someone with high level military clearance, like Johns, would have had access to do that. Audrey must have stolen his Guild Link and hacked the records that way."

Logan watched him fidget. What had he pulled at Kova? She'd have to look into that, wouldn't she? Or ask. "Um, Kova? Don't they have like the universe's best ID system ever made? What did you pull?"

"Found out that there was a look-a-like for Audrey Johastein, was all. When she failed to get me the intel I needed from the other survivors I hauled her off to Kova penal. She passed the ID test." He shrugged. "Guess the Chillingsworth clan were rather pissed off about the murder of their little Antonia."

She continued to watch him. His fretting didn't indicate guilt as such, but was more indicative of him remembering an experience that bothered him. She was tempted to pry but decided to wait when he dug out a half-smoked cigar and a thick Kovan data core from one of his desk drawers and raked his hand through his hair.

"Once more, I've got the raw data from the_ Kubla Kahn_ computers that she trashed. I'm positive it was her, too. The preacher, pilot, and princess don't have the skills for this, and neither did Riddick or Smyth. She's the only wild card here, so it must be her doing. If Riddick had been the one to take the computers down it would have been through physical damage, because time after time that is how he has operated. But this time, the computers were physically fine; the techs couldn't find a thing to repair. It was the company brains on the rescue ship that found the Kubla Kahn that suggested a viral attack on the control systems. They were right." He lifted the data core; "I got a copy of the entire system compress here from the ship, thanks to the Chillingsworth clan. The viral program is contained, but still active. A mutating worm. It took a squad of the best Company and Kovan brains to build a block that could stop it. There's no telling what kind of damage this girl could do, if she set her mind to it."

A whistle broke the strained silence as Eva took in the information. A killer like Riddick and a cyber hack, working together, could cripple society from any location they chose. Hell. No wonder Toombs looked like shit. He was scared out of his mind with the prospect of what these two could do if they set their mind to it. Only he didn't have a clue as to how right he was to be scared. She wondered what other evidence he had. "How do you know, for sure, that the records were tampered with if Miss Johastein did such a wonderful job of covering her ass?"

"Only this," He tossed a couple of hard copy photos to her. One was a college photo of a young man with sparkling greenish-gray eyes with '_I'll love you forever, darling. -- Marcus_' scribbled across the bottom. The other was a cadet photo of a dark-eyed man that could have been Marcus' younger brother. The back of the photo had '_So there, I survived Strike Force Academy and only got this crummy haircut! Ha, ha, J/K, Lt. 'Richie' Riddick_.' Toombs lit his smoke and gave her time to sit down, "Personal photos, one from Marcus Smyth's wife, the other from Carl Johastein himself. What other proof do I need? An eyewitness? I suppose I could try to drag in the other survivors, but they aren't talking." He decided to not mention the Kubla Kahn's lookup of Riddick's files that he managed to save. Only Johastein knew about those aside from Curly (and Asher). He didn't need Logan trying to kill him too.

Logan reached for his electronic display and pulled up the files in question and compared the photos in her hand with the images. "Sure as shit," she murmured. "Right, I'll tell the boys that you are trying to help Mrs. Smyth reclaim her settlement if the bull about Johns doesn't fly. What should I do if they get too nosey?"

"Send 'em to me, and find some new hacks." Toombs said lightly, even though he was deadly serious. "Listen, I want you to take this and see if you can find any patterns to Audrey's work. It seemed random to the Kovan experts, but you know how much stock I place in those religious freaks."

Eva took the data core and slipped it into her jacket. "I'll work on it myself. Don't want to risk the virus getting out or anything." Then she laughed as she exited the room, "And about those hacks… Make sure you got a 'stupid-direction' picked out, Captain. You're gonna need it."

That night he found himself out at an eatery with Betsy on his arm. At least she looked nice, all dolled up and wearing a half-decent dress. It was a bit too much like a date though. So he told her that he needed her to look something up for him. He knew it would likely end up with her in a holding cell, but he'd ask anyway and play innocent later.

Toombs tipped her off about Riddick's pre-crash visit to Lupus 5 and his rifling through the Guild computer. He flattered her with her skill at digging intel out of people and made the suggestion that if she wanted the big money that there was a lead he wouldn't touch because he was too crude to manage it. But she could, likely. A couple of glasses of wine later she toddled off thinking she was far better at the game of seducing intel out of folks than she really was…

"_Ten days out. Turns out Asher wasn't talkin' about playin' cards. Mighta gotten messier if this kid hadn't stepped in to mediate. The little man is Evac. He put the drop on Asher for me…and now he says he's lookin' to get on as a gunner. Quite the resume moment." _

By the next morning Toombs had taken care of all his little problems. Except for the crew. He'd give it one more day then he'd split. If he could stand one more day here. Evac was a smart cunning fellow. Small in stature, easy to mistake for a kid but aware enough to use both to his advantage. Toombs figured that he'd better keep an eye on the fellow. At the current moment it seemed that the Riddick rumor died with Asher and there was no sign of Curly. But Toombs won't forget Eva's warning.

"_Eleven days out. Lupus Five is starting to stink of amateurs… so Evac and me gotta look elsewhere to crew up. I even had to deputize a bunch of idiots…and sent them on a Riddick goose chase in the stupid direction. Boy, Riddick's big game. Seems like it's more than just a bounty that gets all these panties in a tussle. Watch out, Sunshine! Here comes trouble."_

After the hacks show up in his hanger thinking that Eva has no idea about what Toombs is really going for are dealt with, it's clear that Lupus 5 is not working out. Sure as shit, Logan had been right about her hacks. He guessed that normally she'd keep them in line, but he had told her to send them to him. So he exercised his captain powers, promoted them to provisional merc status and gave them some 'leads'. Of course, Evac just couldn't stop laughing over that. The hacks had been on a lowly pay scale in relation to what real mercs made, and Toombs didn't even have to promise them square shit.

Toombs informed Logan of his secure link on his C-19 and rounded up Evac's gear from where the other man had it stored. They hit space and a two-day trip in cryo. Now normally he'd call that a day and leave it as such, but Toombs forgot about the camera until after being on the ground for a day at Lupus 1. Once there, Toombs tried his own hand at the intel game. Just looking for some clue, any clue as to where Riddick might have gone, where he might have stopped at after escaping from the_Kubla Kahn_. He was hoping that perhaps another system would pop out at him as a likely stopover point. Instead he comes to the conclusion that Riddick would have gone straight to Helion.

"_Thirteen days out. Made a pit stop on Lupus One. Did me a little research on the Helion System. If Riddick dropped his holy friend off anywhere… it would have definitely been New Mecca. The trip's not a total loss. Got me a pilot. Big fuckin' oaf named Daisy. Not much to look at, but she's all sweatheart."_

What he finds confirms his first impression: Riddick took the remaining survivors to the Helion system. The stolen two-seater from Chillingsworth's ship is still sitting in lockup on Helion 5. He could get in to see the hulk if he wants to, but really there's little he could glean from it that the company hasn't already. He opts for a company investigative record on the examination of the ship, the psych profile write-up on one Carolyn Fry, pilot 2nd class, and the deposition given by Lajjun and Abu al-Walid to the port authorities about how they came into possession of the craft. But there was nothing new in any of the intel he got. In fact, all the documented evidence points to one Marcus Smyth being on the cutter with the others. It almost seemed_too_ watertight.

Or he really was chasing ghosts. He stopped for a moment and considered things. He knew what he'd seen on the _Kubla Kahn_. Those records were from before the expert work done on the ship's systems that left it crippled. Thankfully he'd managed to copy the files that were still viewable before one of the other mercs lost them totally. That copy was the only one in existence now that pointed to Riddick having survived the crash of the Hunter-Grantzer. It had been enough to convince Johastein, and every dipshit in the Arm that had heard about him having those files had tried to kill him. So—no ghosts there, just a very hard to follow trail.

His investigation was interrupted when Evac dragged him out to some of the local areas, seeing as Toombs hadn't been on Lupus 1 for literally years. It was while they were checking out the local watering spots that they ran across something Toombs desperately required: A pilot. This one was not clingy, not looking for a ride in the hay, not demanding anything at all but a square cut. He gladly shook her hand on the deal.

"_Twenty-two days out. Think Daisy's got an unhealthy obsession with wives' tales. Good thing I'm not married. She won't stop runnin' her gums…about some kind of "scorge" or scourge or – Whatever it is, it's givin' me a headache."_

The trip in cryo lasted 9 weeks before the C-19 hiccuped and came to a stop. Toombs couldn't see anything wrong with the systems but decided to be safe and spend some time checking them over carefully. It would set them back a day or two, but at least they'd survive to landing. He crawled around in the guts of the ship, double checking connections and having Evac push buttons on cue. Nothing came up. It was at this point that Daisy started running her mouth about this, that, and the next thing. She'd spotted a comet in the distance heading in toward the star nearest to them. The faint thing might have disrupted the gravity of the undercutter as it breezed past. Toombs popped his shoulders and told her to shut the fuck up, before ordering them back into cryo.

"_Twenty-nine days out. Helion Prime. Nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live here. Who does want to live here? Anybody else think it's bright enough? No way Riddick camps out in these woods…but I got some ideas."_

Another 4 weeks and they land, once again, on Helion Prime. Toombs counts the 2 days doing the system check in space, the 4 weeks in cryo, and the 3 days spent limping through the Helion Nebula at sublight speeds in that tally of his. He checks his mail before waking the others at the edge of the nebula. Eva has sent him a pack of intel that indicates someone with Riddick-like behavior pulled a crime spree across Helion Five and Helion Prime before going very, very quiet.

The spree includes a false fire alarm at a swanky hotel, assault on a number of company employees, a murder, a stolen ship, unauthorized entry into Helion Prime airspace, crash landing said stolen ship in a wild life reserve, embezzlement, and assault on a Helion citizen. All in the span of a few weeks.

He contacts her back and leaves a message for her to check out the hotel incident after she gets finished with her trip to Aquila. He has a hunch that they will find an Imam at both ends of the spree… Pointing once again to Riddick being Smyth.

To keep the crew occupied Toombs sends Daisy and Evac out to scout around, buy up some supplies, and in general stay out of his hair. Evac comes back with a local notice about a quick pick up where one of the smaller jails has a triple-max con confined and is looking to get rid of him fast. Seeing as he has the room he agrees that they should help out.

"_Thirty days out. Picked up a straggler con named Damascus. A little insurance bounty just for the hell of it. Turned out Damascus already had a handler…a merc by the name of Phelps who lost his skiff…and was looking for a new business partner. I figured a buyout was safer than a gunfight…so Phelps is comin' along as my new navigator…and Damascus is comin' along for the ride. Sounds like the price on Crematoria can handle a split." _

The group with con took off for Crematoria, but only after limping back out of the nebula before they jumped into faster-than-light speeds. Toombs had to practically grind his own teeth down to keep from backhanding his pilot. He put the others into cryo before venting. In the meantime, he reviewed the intel from Helion. The rough direction across planet for the crime spree pointed out by Logan does indeed point to the Imam. He doubts that anyone other than Logan would have drawn a connection between these varied crimes though. Aside from the stolen ship and the crash, the only thing they have in common is a bleach blonde chick in sunglasses wearing a lip ring, and those are a dime a dozen here in the Helion system.

"_Thirty-four days out. Since we left Helion, Daisy's so hopped up on conspiracies… she won't shut her damn yap. Keeps mutterin' somethin' like "Necromonger." Damn fine pilot, but I wouldn't mind…just sewin' her mouth shut! Phelps is workin' out like a charm. Think maybe I've finally got a crew with the stones to get the drop on Riddick."_

Cryo for seven weeks before his personal alert goes off. Toombs forced himself awake and looked around for the cause. There was an automated robotic outpost sliding up alongside the C-19 and something was causing his alarm to twitter in his ear. The others were still asleep and for that he thanked all the varied Gods in heaven. A closer look at the alert he discovers that Logan has located and patched him into Johns' Guild Linkup signal. And it is very close by. Like, on that garbage sweeper bouncing up against his hull. He forgets himself and whoops for joy. That extra 500K looks to be in reach. He could kiss Eva, except for the fact that she'd gut him for trying if she's even a smidgen like her Ma in that respect.

"_Forty-one days out. Just hit an outpost off the lanes and found a five-year-old data dump…with passenger info on a ship called Hunter Gratzner. William J. Johns in possession of a convict. Now, a little due diligence, and you can get the name of the skiff that the big, bad Riddick rode out on. Now, how many slick fuckers do you think could do that?"_

He uses his captain's override and gets inside the outpost. Toombs has to wear a space suit, but he finds the shitty lifeboat inside, under a bunch of other crap. Given the choice of waking the others or doing this himself, he decides to leave them sleeping. The gravity makes it easy to move the bits of trash until he's able to get to the skiff. Inside he finds scorch marks on the inside roof of the thing, signs that the fire foam went off, indications that people managed to live in the tiny space for an extended period of time… He turns his attention to the search and soon uncovers the hidden stash. He takes both the jewels and statues to sell and then uncovers the prized guild link that will net him half a mil in UD's. Back inside his own ship he plugs in a new battery. Johns' link has been set to emergency broadcast by someone who knew how to maximize battery power. He's never seen anything like it. The dang guild link fires up and looks like it was never that low on power. He opens the files and begins browsing through Johns' data. It becomes very clear that the man kept great records, in Toombs' standards anyhow. Every capture, every chase, every bill and bounty collection for all 17 runners is present and accounted for. The government could do a full accounting of Johns' estate off the intel on the hard drive alone. Then as a bonus, he finds not only the data off the doomed last flight but the serial numbers for the little skiff, the outpost buildings on the planet they crashed on, a near full personal record of the missing persons that had been on the planet before them, and Riddick's personal data file dating from the Wailing Wars. To Toombs' surprise he also uncovers that Johns was running a scam by taking Riddick to slams, getting paid, and them picking him up when he inevitably escaped. Man, the guild was gonna be pissed when this hit the fan. He was going to have to talk to Eva about what to do with this info. It might be worth blackmailing Johns' next-of-kin about to keep the guild from finding out.

He carefully hid the linkup so the others don't find it in a compartment under his chair and dopes back up for the other fourteen weeks in cryo that it takes to reach Crematoria. No-one else need even know about the little stopover. Only Eva. He'll talk to her soon, no doubt.

"_Fifty-six days out. Runnin' low on party poppers now. We just made the landing on Crematoria and it seems there's some confusion about the price on Damascus here. Is every monkey in this galactic arm terrible at math?"_

Every damn time he stops here the prison Boss, Douruba, tries to lower the stated fees. Compromise seems a way of life with the Russians. As much as he wants to get in and then back out, this damn planet locks him in to staying unless he wants to take a deep, deep cut. So he spends the time bartering and misses that slim window to depart.

"_Fifty-seven days out. Had a little sleepover at the slam. Now, you know you got everyone's attention when the bounties start jumpin' up. These Russian jokers say they're putting up a cool 850K for Riddick. Just the kind of financial motivation a tired bunch of mercs like us need to keep up the good work."_

He has to admit, his skin is looking less white after a day here. It's so hot that even underground one's skin tends to tan up. Of course, above ground the temperatures tend to cook things in minutes. The food was not too bad either, even if it doesn't hold a candle to the fare on Tangiers-3. The talk is that_if_ Riddick is alive, and _if_ he can catch him, Douruba has a deal worked out with the Jo-man himself to offer the largest single prison payoff ever. The offer is dangled in his face to get his mind off the other prisoner he's trying to get paid for, he suspects.

In any case, it won't work and Douruba knows it. But the game with Toombs was one he enjoyed playing. So over a fine glass of class-A home brew, the prison boss told Toombs of what his guards have overheard between Phelps, Evac, and Daisy. Now that was a distraction. Toombs narrowed his eyes at the news. Douruba tells him he can set him up for a full payout, minus expenses, with a total of one cut, which although smaller than advertised he won't have to share, while taking care of the mutiny brewing with his crew before talk drifts back to Riddick.

It doesn't take long for the liquor to loosen the prison boss' tongue to the point that he reveals that Johastein wants Riddick contained and Crematoria is just about the last place left to try. There are only two other new triple max slams Riddick hasn't bested besides this one. Both of them are, like Crematoria, a 'waking' triple max. No deep storage, cryosleep, pansy 'save their souls' crap. The vivid descriptions alone make Toombs' blood run cold in the sweltering heat of the main control room. He has never been to either of the other triples. From what he hears, he doesn't want to, either. Crematoria is bad enough.

"_Fifty-eight days out. Goddamn 52 hour days here, and all I want to do is pop the cork and get runnin'. Daisy's been talking to a couple of the Russians. Her tall tales are starting to sound like the genuine article. Some kind of planet-killers. Well, ride me hard and put me up wet. Who's got time for that? I got a convict to pick up."_

It's going on his third day in this joint, as he missed the window to take off at mid day due to being drunk, and he still needs to get paid. He recalls his deal with Douruba, and knows that he needs to talk to the crew before he gives the signal to go ahead. So he marched in to where the others were.

Daisy acts like the big oaf that she is. But Toombs has the idea that maybe she's not so stupid. Evac and Phelps have heard some things from the Russians about the calls from Johastein and set in with more questions than he cares to answer. Then to top it off, because of his 'buyout' of Phelps, Evac and Daisy both think that he can afford to give them a larger cut. No. This is not happening. He manages to get them straight about what "square" means, an even 4-way split after expenses. The ship needs to be resuppiled so that comes off the top. If they want to be there when he buys the shit the ship needs to make sure he's not pocketing extra, then fine, but the cuts come after the bills.

As he's leaving, Daisy starts back up with her rumors, adding even more 'detail' than the last time…

"_Fifty-nine days out. Preppin' to get off this rock. Everybody on board is anglin' for a fatter cut than the bog dog. Evac and Phelps sure are askin' lots of questions about Riddick. Nobody told me the price of loyality was gonna be such a pain in my ass. What's to know? He's a fuckin' convict pimp-daddy jailbird. Had to make it clear that my hirin' policy is 'no questions asked.' For that, I dish out square cuts." _

As per-agreement with Douruba, in the predawn light, just a bit too early to leave, the escape alarm goes off. The Russians dangle extra cash in front of Evac, Phelps, and Daisy if they 'help' bring the surface runner back in. Toombs is told to stay put, as the ship's owner and 'insurance' that his crew won't help the runner escape instead of bring him back in.

The offer is way too good for the three mutineers to resist.

Once they are gone, Douruba steps out of the tunnel with the case of cash for Damascus and clears Toombs to leave. He even turns off the anti-autopilot security system to ensure that Toombs survives the experience. It's a 'no-questions-asked' kind of deal.

"_Seventy-six days out. Had to make a few cutbacks recently. After all that work diggin' up a premium crew… they had to go and make themselves expendable…by talkin' mutiny on my ship. Bet they were surprised to find me and the skiff gone when they got back to the hangar. Good luck with that terminator run. Sunburns like that never really go away."_

The cryo trip back to Lupus takes 17 weeks. He meets with Logan and goes over her intel from Aquila. There's enough clues there that he thinks it might be worth a trip himself. Certainly the stolen Kovan freighter, _Amenjard_, with its oddly altered-eyed thief is a tasty morsel. Toombs remembers that ship meeting up with the Newtownian Institute's research vessel to pick up the remains of Chillingsworth and Junner. It had been staffed with Rychengoll brethren. Something like that is hard to forget.

Eva looks even older than the last time he met with her. He wonders if his C-19 don't have some faulty systems in the navigation or something, because it sure seems like he's been away from Lupus longer than 9 months. Yet that's what the crono shows. 9 months and a week give or take a few days.

Eva has been doing all the Riddick-based footwork herself, not trusting the new batch of hacks with this intel. It's too high level, and too risky. She sits Toombs down in front of her workstation, back at Logan Services main office, and carefully reveals the tell-tale signs of systematic alteration that she's dig up from the records he left her.

He then produced John's guild link. They discuss the overall package, including William J. Johns' dirty laundry. He'll leave that in her hands for an even split. She agrees, on the condition that he leaves the original guild link with her and take a copy of the intel for himself. Since the work was done on this machine, he agrees. He needs her to track down exactly what Audrey did to those records and how she managed to transmit them into the various databases.

He then leaves for Aquila himself, with a stopover at an outpost to pick up some old friends from the _Kubla Kahn_ that he knows won't stab him in the back.

"_Eighty-one days out. New hirin' policy – nothing too fancy. These guys will work out fine as long as they can draw a bead when we catch up with Riddick. Heading to the Achelon system on some granted intelligence."_

Toombs takes another 4-week jump, hit the space station, and gathered up T-Doc, Johnny, Tags, and Codd. All of them are old pros. They have a good shot, and won't try to overstep their bounds. He knows them all, from his _Kubla Kahn_ days. Each of them tried their hand at their own operation and only Toombs still has a ship. -- Well not totally true. T-Doc is one of those folks, like Heidi Logan, that he'd stake his life on. And it was T-Doc's call that drew him here. And its T-Doc that still owns his own cutter. It's not much, a little two-man craft; certainly not robust enough to take on someone like Riddick alone.

But together, they'd be unstoppable. So T-Doc suits up to follow Toombs, Johnny, Tags, and Codd to a new goal, Achelon. Why there and not Aquila? Because the outpost that the Kovan Freighter was swiped off of sits in disputed space, and Logan has already mined the databases on the Aquilan side. Achelon's computers aren't quite as tough to break into and T-Doc thinks he can do it without tipping anyone off. Plus it's only two weeks off.

"_Eighty-three days out. Back in the Achelon system again. First time in a long time. Nine worlds to choose from. No need to get all dolled up. Probably won't stop for long. Achelons aren't that chatty, so intel might be hard to come by."_

With Doc-T in constant communication, Toombs and his associates settle in behind one of the local moons so that they can do some searching through the Acheleon database. Now normally in a situation like this, where the local sun is a dim one and the security is slack, Toombs would expect to find a fellow like Riddick taking advantage of the situation. Instead they draw a blank. There's no sign of him ever stopping here. No sign of Smyth either. There are two possibilities. One, Riddick managed to not make a scene if he stopped here or; Two, he didn't stop here. Toombs rather thinks it's the latter. But Doc-T convinces him to stick around for one more day so he can check the civilian records to see if anyone with the right profile pops up employed anywhere.

"_Eighty-four days out. New bounty just hit the wires. Somebody'll pay 1.5 million now. Looks like things just got serious. Consider me motivated!"_

The wave is out of Helion, which is a slight surprise. It's private, with payment on delivery in cold hard cash in the domination of choice. This one states Richard B. Riddick, alias Marcus Smyth. There's no doubt about it, someone thinks he's on the right track. Toombs, being the not so deep thinker that he is doesn't bother to wonder why a private party on a non-prison world would want to pay nearly double what Johastein is offering. Quite frankly, he doesn't care. He just wants to get paid.

"_Eighty-five days out. Well, what little hospitality there was just ran out. Some comet here just jacked the shit out of my systems. I imagine if Daisy were still around she'd be barkin' the same old Necromonger tune. Thanks to whatever, we now have to put in for repairs at a nearby outpost." _

Luck is a good thing, both his cryosystems and Doc-T's still work. The nearest outpost still reading an energy signal is a two-week jump in Cryo on the opposite side of Achelon space. He's got little choice in the matter.

"_Eighty-seven days out. I hit this Achelon outpost and did a little more diggin'. Boy they should start passin' out merc awards…and I think I'll take the trophy for king shit. Guess who's comin' for ya, Riddick?"_

There's only one system that the Kovan Freighter stolen from the Aquilan outpost on the other side of Achelon space could reach, as Riddick definitely didn't stop. Limited options, little place to hide. It was only a matter of time. It would have taken the Telvis class _Amenjard_four months to cover that ground. His C-19 can get through it in a month. He's so close he can almost taste it.

At that same outpost there's another undercutter, a C-14, slightly smaller craft, and two out of luck crews of mercs. 1.5 million is more than enough to share. He recruits them all, makes sure they understand that he's calling the shots and they prepare to hit the target hard and fast. Toombs doesn't even bother to learn the other crew's names. He takes on enough people to fill up his C-19 and Doc-T adds an additional single person to his ship. The others file into the C-14 and they jump into space for a 4-week sleep.

_"Ninety-two days out. Planet UV Six. Quite an interesting choice. Maybe I'll use the bounty to hire a ghostwriter…for my autobiography. Can't wait to see the look on Riddick's face—all deer-in-the-headlights and shit." _

Settling down on UV 6, Toombs leaves Doc-T in orbit. Doc-T and the other little Asian pilot handle the coordination of crews. The C-14 with it's 5-man crew goes in first, scouting for signs of life. UV 6 is the opposite of hell, blisteringly cold, incased in twilight even at noon, and currently swathed in a blizzard. At first break, about 7 hours after landing, the crew sets out to scout.

The first crew down quickly falls foul to _something _in the swirling snow. Toombs locates the wreck of the C-14 after several hours of searching. He doesn't like what he finds. The inside of the ship has been gutted, trashed. And Toombs thinks that it wasn't something random. He pulls back into space and talks the situation over with Doc-T. In the end, both ships land, Doc-T drops off his single crewmember to assist in the hunt and heads back into space. Toombs divides his group into 4 and 4. Four in ship, four on the ground. He tells them to stay in constant contact. Codd and Johnny take two of the newcomers and head off into the snow. He keeps the other three, including Tags, and they head off into battle of wits with one Richard B. Riddick.


	30. Fallout

**A/N**: A chapter covering Lujjan (and Abu), Carolyn and Aereon, Kyra, and, hey… what's up with that Eva character? Note… the section with Kyra is still dark, violent, prison life. Remember this is a mature fic. So read with caution.

And guess what? I'm still waiting for that call that says I own this, but seeing as it hasn't happened I suppose I don't. That being the case, don't even bother to sue me...

_A Passage: 30_

**Fallout**

She hurt in places that she never realized could hurt before. She wanted to pass out, so bad… but she couldn't with the boiling rage flowing through her veins. Kyra watched the ceiling-light fixtures go by with hooded eyes as she was hauled back into the medical area. Once there the hack unceremoniously gassed her, unhooked her from the brass display table, and gave her a once over. He didn't bother to heal anything or clean anything, or even note anything in her file. With a sneer he tossed a set of grubby clothes that weren't even hers onto her chest.

Still unable to move, she was then dragged off the hard slab onto the floor rather roughly. She landed on her ass. Pain shot through her noodle-like limbs from the impact. An armored guard took each arm with a third leveling his gun at her. Still nude but with the clothing lying on her chest, she was then dragged through the prison, her legs and arms flopping like they were made of rags. The prisoners on the route whooped and hollered but the guards paid them no mind. Krya's mind started to fill with fog again, as the oblivion of unconsciousness refused to come.

Just as she was getting use of her limbs back the tailing guard moved his gun to get her attention before poking her with it, "Don't even think of tensing up, prisoner. I'll shoot first and ask you what we should put on your gravestone later." Kyra glared back at him but remained relaxed in spite the rough surfaces scrapping against her already tender skin causing her to feel like she was being flayed alive. In order to endure it she focused her attention on the barrel of the gun leveled at her.

They finally reached isolation. The guard in charge of checking new inmates in flipped open a door that was about waist height. The roof was not much higher. The guards dragging her tossed her in and pitched her boots at her not caring if they hit her or not. With the pain she was already in she barely noticed either way.

The gun barrel that she'd focused on was lifted out of view and she lunged for the doorway in a moment of insanity. She hit the door as it clanged shut with a heavy metallic finality. The guards laughed on the other side of the door. It was the last thing she heard before blacking out due to the foul fumes left behind from pass residents…

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Lujjan set Ziza into her stationary play table to keep the ever curious and active child out of trouble and turned to the other woman in the room, "I'm sure that it is all behind us, or I was. Until Carolyn called last week. I'd forgotten about the visit from Audrey all those months ago. You know how Abu is about his work, nothing is more vital to him than the state of New Mecca." Behind her Ziza began to make the various parts move and clink, buzz and whirl as she played with the activities built into the table.

Over the resulting noise the other woman Lujjan was having tea with stated, "Yes, I do work with him, Lujjan. This is a social visit, though. I don't get to see you, my friend, as often as I like." The finely dressed government official settled down in a seat near the former princess. "Have you spoken to your father lately?"

"Of course. He sent presents for the baby. A few months late, really. The clothes are too small for Ziza to wear, and boys styles to boot, but I suppose there's always the possibility of another."

Ziza noticed that the others were drinking and made a noise that sounded an awful lot like, "Me too?" Lujjan stood back up and fixed a sippy cup with lightly sweetened 'tea' which was mostly water and milk with a dollop of the local spiced sweetener which she then handed to the child along with a shortbread biscuit. Ziza giggled happily and managed a, "T'ank, Mum," before stuffing the corner of the biscuit into her mouth and sucking on it.

"Learning her manners already?" the woman laughed. Lujjan smiled and nodded. "You know, your father sending boys clothes sure sounds like something he'd do, all right."

"She is a smart child, the apple of Abu's eye. The light of my life," Lujjan picked up her cup as she settled back down. "As for my father, I called him and let him meet his grand-daughter. He seemed happy enough to see her. I expect the next package will be filled with my mother's jewels. Do you think it was a not so subtle hint to have more?"

The suggestion about the jewels stuck with the counselor, "Would he do that? Send a fortune by mail?"

"This is my father we are talking about. If he thinks the stones will net him a political advantage, then you know he will. Never mind the fact that I won't let him sell my daughter to the highest bidder, ever."

"Well, he might be hoping for a grandson to take over his position, Lujjan. Otherwise it goes to your Uncle. The political mess that would cause makes me shiver." All Lujjan could do was agree with that. Her Uncle was not prime material for leadership, being lazy and too easy to sway by outside parties. Silence settled over them with only the sounds of them drinking their tea to break it. Ziza happily played with her sippy cup. "I suppose political advantage was the only reason he allowed you to remarry after you found yourself sold to the Kovans. And speaking of the Kovans…" The Councilor watched them as she finished her tea. "You must know, Lujjan, that Abu is trying to extradite Audrey Johastein from Kova. The Kovan ambassador is being bullheaded, and will likely try to discredit him if he's not careful. Warn your husband that whatever his motivation, its not worth his career."

Lujjan stiffened. "You have no right. Abu feels that family is important. This is a family matter." She started to stand.

"Wait," she reached out and put a hand on the other woman's arm, "-- Lujjan, please. You are my friend. I know you love your husband, but Kova isn't something to mess around with. He's playing with fire here -- "

Lujjan resumed her seat and eyed the golden-skinned woman over. This individual was one that had sided with Abu on a number of occasions and had put her neck out for him before when he had lobbied for improved safety for long-term sleeper ships. Together they had taken on the Company and managed to get a layer of protection that woke the crew up if the ship deviated off course by more than a thousandth of a degree. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes, "I'm aware of the risks. He's aware of the risks. But that won't stop him from doing what is right, Councilor. Audrey Johastein, or Jackie as he knows her, is someone he survived a great trial with. They bonded quite deeply, and there is no way he is going to turn his back on her. The crime she is accused of she did not commit. The Kovan justice system didn't even give her a hearing. Surely you see why this is important to him?"

"Yes, I understand why. It's just that I don't want to see him raked over hot coals. While she's been there she assaulted two guards, taking them out barehanded. Last I heard she was in solitary lockdown. The Chillingsworth clan has enormous power to bring to bear. I'm worried that they will crush you both."

A chime rang someplace in the house drawing Lujjan's attention. "It is past time I make dinner. Please excuse me," she said with a wan smile. The words she had just heard sent ice through her heart. Suddenly she was very scared for Jackie.

The other woman stood and moved out the door. She stopped and hugged Lujjan before she exited, "I'll do everything I can to watch his back, if you feel this is that important."

Closing her eyes, Lujjan relaxed. She hugged the other woman, "Thank you." Behind her Ziza began to fuss as if she sensed her mother's agitation. "Good bye." The other woman just nodded as the door closed.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The brown-haired woman woke to something furry nibbling at her toes. Without thinking she screamed and smashed the critter even though it was not hurting her. Pulse racing she assumed it was a rat… But as she calmed she could guess it was a large mouse-like creature as she felt it's dead form with her fingers. In the darkness of her small cell she wasn't sure really what it was. She stiffly stretched as much as she could before finding the clothing scattered about around her. Kyra shivered. The darkness was not broken by anything. She didn't have enough room to stand. She used her hands to figure out what item of apparel went where, identifying a pair of rough underwear, the grubby jumpsuit and finally the boots. Try as she might she wasn't able to find socks.

She put on what she did have before reaching for the boots again. One boot was heavy. A family of the critters had already moved into it. Kyra evicted them and shook out the junk they had dragged into it. 'Yuck,' She gagged a bit. Even so, it was better to have the boots on then to have her toes eaten by the beasties. After that she cleaned up what she could by brushing it toward the back of the chamber and hunkered down to wait. It was all she could do, really.

There was no space to exercise, unless she used the cryochamber exercises that Toombs taught her. If nothing else it was something to do. She set herself a ridiculously high number of reps to do of each exercise then she began making up variations. She did this until she was exhausted. Food arriving woke her up. She had to shoo off the critters to get the food. She finally threw some to the dirty side of the cell and ate the rest. She kept the utensil she ate with long enough to get the guards to open the cell and take it back. They beat her to a bloody pulp and added another month to her lockdown. She gave up the idea and went back to exercising.

In the darkness she had no idea of how long she slept, nor how long she was awake. The only regular event that occurred was the food arriving. She had no idea if it was once a day or three times a day. There was never any light, only a slight scraping sound before the bowl appeared or went away. At first she considered giving in to the despair that pressed at her psyche. Then she mapped out by touch the entire space, willing herself to explore the trash even, just for something to keep her mind occupied. And she worked out as much as she could manage. But try as she might Kyra couldn't fight off the effects of living in such a small, dirty space.

At some point in the middle of her isolation she had a spell of a sickness. Cold and chills were her first clue that something was wrong. Then she shivered and sweated as her muscles went into a series of dull aching spells. She couldn't exercise, nor do much of anything else. But the food, when it arrived, sent her into a fit of gagging and wrenching that left her feeling weak and wrung out.

She blamed the animals in the cell with her. The irrational part of her mind figured that if she got rid of them then the sickness would go away. Weak as she was, Kyra managed to kill the rodents and put the bodies in the food bowl after eating the food. She had to force it down and struggle to keep it in. The guards took the bowl out, tiny bodies and all. She drifted in and out of waking, not sure how much time was passing… It hardly mattered. She couldn't see much more with her eyes open than she could with them closed.

Kyra did think that perhaps her mind was going south. She could swear that sometimes the darkness was lighter. Like there was a white patch of fog hovering against the far wall. At first once she noticed it the lighter patch would disappear until she wasn't looking for it again. Then it would fade back into view. Not that it shed light on her surroundings, or her, but she was aware of it and could keep it there if she didn't stare directly at it. Or she could make it go away by focusing her attention on it. Or maybe the darkness and isolation was driving her mad…

One day while shivering half awake in a fever dream she saw the pale mist resolve into an image. It was an icy, windswept landscape. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Instead of fading away though the vision became sharper. Kyra focused her full attention on it, hoping to drive this – whatever it was—away. Instead she became aware that in the center of the vision was a handmade shelter of sorts, a series of ice bricks backing a stretched white skin from some huge creature. Her focus seemed to zoom in on the shelter until she could see that the front limbs of the skin where tied off on two sturdy black poles by some type of handmade cording. Various bone weapon tips attached to bone shafts sat ready to be used against the back wall. They looked to be skillfully carved with intricate hooked serrations. 'Fishing spears?' she thought. Movement caught Kyra's eye. Out from the deeper shadows inside the shelter emerged a figure dressed in shaggy white furs with long wild hair that formed sun-bleached blonde braided dreadlocks as it spilled off the person's head.

Kyra blinked at the vision and tried to come to grips with what she was seeing. The figure slowly tipped its head up and looked right at her. Kyra found herself glowering at a face that was very nearly her own. The eyes were the same shape if the wrong color. Her nose, lips, and skintone were spot on. And the cheeks were about the same height and width too. But the chin was more pointed and lacked the dimple she had. In spite the primitive clothing and environment, the other woman looked less dirty, less savage, and certainly less feverish.

The woman's golden eyes had an inner fire… a luminous spark the danced in the depths of her pupils. Her sun streaked hair that peaked out from her deep fur lined hood had bits of stuff woven into it. Tuffs of fur, strands of leather, linked together fish scales, even a small tooth or two. Her skin had a tan from the reflections off the ice, just a gentle bronze glow.

Kyra became aware that the other person was staring back at her with a look of recognition, paused in place with her wrapped hands entwined around what had to be nets still dipped into water. It was impossible. Couldn't be happening…

The image faded and Kyra stared at the blackness that replaced it.

She tried to forget about the vision. She wanted to write it off as a fever dream. Yet the next day she had it again.

Only this time the other woman looked at her sadly for a moment and went back to her fishing. Kyra's attention was held captive by that harsh visage, lit with a faint violet glow, as she watched her counterpart haul nets filled with smallish silvered fish onto the ice.

Same thing happened the day after… and the day after that. Even after the fever was long gone it happened. Kyra came to almost welcome it, as the vision was the highlight of her day. She had no idea who it was she was seeing, or why it might be important, but the other woman never seemed surprised to see her. And Kyra was sure that they were seeing each other. Sometimes the shelter would be set slightly different, or the weapons would change. At one point she noticed that the other woman's clothes had a newly patched area, like she'd mended and covered a tear in her leathers. At another, Kyra spotted what looked like a purple hickey half hidden under the other woman's hair behind her ear when the wind blew her hood back off her head. But she never wondered why she was having these visions, instead focusing on how grateful she felt for the sense that she was not alone.

The visions kept her sane until the guards arrived at her door to take her someplace else.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Eva Logan was a woman with a mission. Well, two really. She'd become a Merc to keep an eye on someone as a favor to her father, not that the 'someone' had made her job easy or anything. Toombs obsession just fell into her lap like a godsend. In this one case her two missions coincided. She wondered sometimes though, if all the childhood talk about Furya was more the stuff of legend and myth than reality.

The primary situation that scared her was not the location of Riddick, but that of one Audrey Johastein. Toombs had indicated that the woman in prison was not the same one that hacked the _Kubla Kahn_. It suited the purposes of the Furyan survivors for the guild link Toombs wanted to remain lost as long as possible, at the moment. But eventually, they would need their lost 'king' to resurface, whether he wanted to or not. And apparently Toombs would need that link to prove that Riddick had been alive the entire time to get paid. If only it were that simple.

Her Da would know how to handle the request to hunt out the info Toombs wanted. Although Toombs hadn't asked for it directly, Heidi and Eva had spent a good portion of their private time tracking Riddick's movements, watching his location, keeping an eye on his progress. Eva had watched her mother hack into Sigma 3's systems and copy communication logs, surveillance records, reports, school transcripts… the works. She had a private file on Richard B. Riddick that placed each moment of each day for 14 years, from the time the company first recorded his bio-signal as a survivor from Furya until the moment he disappeared into Altair's top triple max cryo-slam. She was still trying to hack into that system to cover the resulting 3-year gap.

The records past that were spotty, mostly because Riddick rarely stayed in one slam very long before escaping. Her file ignored rumors, as they were pointless. Instead she tracked the movements of individuals like Johns, and now Toombs, searching for real clues as to Riddick's location. So looking for the marshal's guild link could be helpful to her cause, as it gave her an excuse to track Johns' movements closer than before.

She slipped into her one-man craft. Seconds later her comms sparkled to life and an older blonde man appeared, "Hi Da, I've got some news."

"Evie, darlin'. So good to hear your voice. Tell me, luv, what have you found." The elder Logan's eyes never focused on the screen; the milky mirror-like blue shade of them spoke of his blindness and made Eva sad. She remembered the entire time with his vision failing as she grew up. He had told her that it was the price of his gift, and that he was willing to pay it. But he'd never told her what that gift had been in the first place.

She took a deep breath; "It has to do with Riddick, Da. Johastein thinks he's still alive. He's roped Toombs into looking for him. Hell, he's even given him intel to assist. Personal stuff, photos and things about his Audrey."

"Um. Worrisome, that." The man got a pensive look on his weathered face. "I know Amadak is alive. There's no doubt. And he's not alone, either." Eva scrunched up her face as she wondered how her Da knew this, but he kept going. "It's gonna be trouble in the future, Evie. Stay on your toes."

"But, what should I do? Should I help Toombs, Da?"

"Follow your heart, luv. Your Ma wonders when you gonna come home and visit. At least send some flowers this year, even if I have ta take them to her."

Eva Logan felt her heart sink. She'd hoped that Da would stop talking about her Ma like she was still there, but he hadn't. "I'll try, Da. Think roses will work?" she offered sadly.

"That would be lovely, darlin'. Your Ma likes roses."

She made a face as she tried to keep the tears from falling that had pooled in her eyes. Swallowing, she finally managed, "Okay, Da. I'll either send or bring some roses. I got to go, but I love you."

"We know it, darlin'. Stay safe, Evie."

She sat there in her darkened cockpit for a long while after. Follow her heart? What kind of advice was that?

Hell, she had already decided to look up the intel, hadn't she?

She shook her head to clear it. She went over what she knew and tried to figure out what she didn't. Riddick had slipped Butcher Bay 42 months ago. Shortly thereafter he carved his way out of Slam City station. Johns had caught him and he had been due at Tangiers 3 nine months later. Instead, the ship crashed, and he'd gone missing. When the survivors surfaced it was a 'Smyth' instead of a Riddick. And now she had Toombs, and the rumors of his Kovan records that clearly indicated Smyth _was_ Riddick.

She contacted Helion and pulled up the official records on Smyth again. He'd been missing for 27 months now, presumed dead. Eva bounced the back of her head off her seat in aggravation. His last known port of call was Helion, but his flight data indicated Aquila. She never had very good luck with them over long distance. She'd have to go there in order for them to take her seriously. And it was something she couldn't trust to an underling with the majority of them set to chase after Riddick themselves.

Hell, again.

_That_ was a long day in the saddle.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The lock rattled open. Light flooded into the dark space. Kyra blinked, dazed from the brightness. The guards were not messing around. None of them touched her. "Move. Now." Double max guards, survival veterans, old blood. Kyra crawled out of the tiny, cramped lockdown box that had been her home since the party in Willis' office. "Get to your fucking feet, inmate, or I'll shoot you." She registered alarm first then got to her feet as quickly as she could. "Walk." The group of guards that hauled her out of lockdown carried stun-sticks, big guns, and mean, hardened expressions.

"Inmate Walking!" another guard called, putting all of his guild-mates on alert. More guns than she could count trained on her position. They did not bother chaining her. Breaking into a run or challenging them would just rain hot lead down on her; chains were unnecessary if she were even half-smart. Her path took her into the depths of Kovan Penal, into what had once been a double basement of huge proportions. Below her, about 10 feet down, existed a maze of walls, half walls, and rubble swarming with the dregs of the prison. The hardened criminals. Double max prison. Dirty, grungy, nasty…none of the words Kyra knew really described the place. It was hellish. And that was just the appearance from a distance.

She was tossed into it after solitary lockdown for attacking the guards in the med-lab. There were no cells here, just the maze of open ceiling cubbies. No privacy. The guards dressed in heavy-duty armor patrolled up above with their guns ever at the ready. Food was what you could snag, clothes what you could keep. The guards dragged Kyra out into the light and literally threw her down through a hole in the grating. The inmates waiting just out of stun range sprang on her seconds after the gate clanged shut. Her Merc training came in handy. They were expecting someone weak, disorientated and unused to defending herself, but what they got was a reckless bundle of wrath exploding with sudden fatality.

Five of the local gang went down in a bloody haze of copperish mist. Kyra fought for and defended her space, carving her place in double max at the expense of any whom got in her way. The first to fall were the inmate guardians of the gate, the 'Pretties' as they called themselves. She made the name a misnomer, after rearranging several faces. The guards were rather used to the violence, the ones pushing Kyra in actually took bets on who would walk out of the fight before shooting any stragglers once the fight was finished. Luckily she could walk, run even, once the fight was over or the guards would have shot her too.

The bodies of the defeated represented a measure of wealth; one she was not ready to give up. She waited in the shadows until the bullets stopped flying and emerged to gather boots, clothing, and whatever else she could scavenge off of the bodies. She bundled the goods together, leaving little behind, and moved off into the maze far enough away to find water. She was sure that the system here would be like the unofficial one on Sigma 3 that she remembered so well.

And she was right; convicts had to trade something for everything… She watched the line snake down to the waterspout, each inmate trading some bit …smokes, info, rumor, contraband… for water. The large fellow at the spout was just the sort that Kyra did not think she could take on. He was burly, mean looking, and in sore need of new shoes. "Quite a fight, won some smokes off of it. But nothing comes free here. One of those pretties had a size eleven shoe…Looks like he don't need 'um anymore… You want to deal?"

"What you got? Just water…. How much access to it does a pair of boots buy?"

"Those shiny new size elevens will get you access until they wear out. Or you die. Whichever comes first."

She traded him boots for access to the spout. "Done." Not only did the boots buy her water, but she sensed that perhaps they'd earned her an ally here, a neutral that would not turn on her. Something she was in sore need of herself. "So where did the gate guards flop?"

"Ah, you don't want to stay in that 'hood… None of them on that side know the meaning of 'mine' or 'yours'. Too eager to make everything equal. Slit your throat in your sleep, they will." He eyed her over, "You know, kid – there's a rat-free hole right over there," he pointed to a darkened corner with a covering blocking the guards' view, " and I'll keep an honest eye on your stuff, if you promise to guard my stash. The pretties beat the shit out of my last help, so I owe you one. I'm Charlie." He shook her hand.

"Kyra." She knew better than to refuse. He felt like an honest, if deadly, fellow. "I don't plan on staying long, Charlie."

"Hey, none of us do. You make it out, send me a postcard with a shiv hidden in it, okay, Kyra?"

Having gained some respect, she settled on a temporary spot to flop down and kept her eyes open. Witnesses to her entrance gradually approached with a show of helping. Most offered to trade information, a snippet of survival lore in exchange for some news of the outside world…so she traded what she could, carefully guarding her words, always hinting that she knew more than she was telling. Danger made her smart, pain made her tough.

She learned that fights had to be lightening fast, knock out or deadly, before the guards had time to react. …That Willis still had methods for slaving out inmates to the most deviant members of Kovan society, even here in double max. …That the Rychengoll church sent constituents to preach among the convict population. Often the audience got little choice in the matter. The preaching was accompanied by intense physical stimulation, torture really. But there might be way to escape there… Sometimes if a prisoner endured for a length of time the 'golls would declare that they had a convert and remove the inmate from the prison. Escape was the key. She had to get out of this place. She might be able to slip the Rychengolls… Her only problem would getting their notice. In order to do that she'd have to challenge her way through the maze taking on others who had set their sights on the same purpose.

Charlie wasn't all that bad of a guy, Kyra decided. Sure he was a violent, sleazy killer, but he was an honest, violent, sleazy killer. Once he'd given his word he was good on it. A real convict. He was also not sexually interested in her, which made him safe. The story of how he'd come to this slam was a long involved one. He was guilty of murder, domestic conspiracy, lewd conduct, and corruption of innocent morals. He knew he kind of belonged there, and was not bitter about the fact. He'd even turned himself in. Charlie took Kyra in as a stray and could believe that she'd been framed for her initial murder charges. He'd seen that done before. She felt better about things, by just a tiny amount….

Actually, they had a fun time comparing guards' asses from under the privacy of his little shelter. Charlie also was the betting sort, and Kyra was able to provide him with plenty to bet on, usually at good odds because she was the newcomer. Charlie was sure that she'd walk away from her fights, so she was a safe bet. Not that knowing him or flopping near his space made life in double max safe or easy, but it did give her more security than she felt in a long time. There was a price for that security, of course. Charlie had his own enemies within the maze, individuals who knew he hoarded things of value or who wanted to control the water and Kyra's job became kicking their asses hard enough to set them straight. She did the job good enough to make her own enemies, challengers who sought to eliminate her altogether. But such was life in double max.

Guards left her alone for several weeks. Enough time for her to make her presence known in the maze. She nearly got into a Rychengoll service but missed it by the luck of the draw. Kyra knew though that it was only a matter of time, she could wait. What she feared was that Willis would remember her and find someone whom wanted to live dangerously. She'd seen how they removed others for such 'servicing' trips and it was not pleasant looking. Even if the target was willing to go peacefully the guards took too much sadistic pleasure in the harsh methods to change them. She vowed to make it as difficult as possible for them to catch her….

Charlie saw them coming from his position at the waterspout, "Kyra if your gonna make a scene I suggest you scat, now," he hissed at her. Charlie guessed the guards were looking for her by the way they moved toward her last known location and swept their lights around to make it difficult for anyone to slip away unnoticed. She waited a moment then bolted deeper into the maze.

"There she is!" one cry told her Charlie had been right. The din of pursuit punctuated with orders and yells followed it. She heard the whine of the electric charger start up. The hose began behind her as she ran. Convicts rudely awakened swore from the cold electrified water and scattered as fast as they could. Kyra dodged a corner and heard the slam of the pressurized stream against a weakened wall followed by it toppling. Another inmate screamed as the current charged water and ruble landed on him. Another couple of turns and she'd reach the 'tunnel' and temporary safety….

"Fucking hit her! I don't want to dig her ass out by hand! Hit her now!" The lead guard was having a fit. Kyra rolled to the side and ducked into a passage to her left. The water splashed against her leg as they tried to follow her with it. Pain arched up her and forced her to hobble for a couple of feet. Slightly slower now she couldn't reach the next corner before the guards brought the hose around and lined it up. Kyra ducked and suppressed screams as the spray washed over her back. The water blocked her path. The guard holding the hose dropped the stream onto her and forced her flat to the floor. She convulsed from the pain. The grating overhead scraped as they unlocked a panel. There was a soft 'poof' sound as they netted her and dragged her entangled form up. For once she was grateful when the pain stopped.

They took her to delousing, followed by prep. Same old shit. She was really rather bored with it. She even yawned at the hacks trying to get her worked up. That pissed them off. Well, at least they could learn to do things differently. She discovered that they were short on time and the "customer" was prone to having fits if they took too long. The hacks also revealed that he came by the prison several times a week and that he had been asking for someone new. Kyra barely paid attention to them. She looked and felt for any weak areas in the restraints, table, or system. There had to be a way out. They finally gave up. She was wheeled into a vinyl-coated, padded, soundproof room. Willis was there along with another dark-haired man. "Ah, here she is. I promise you that this one will last longer than the last one," Willis stated.

"That is what you always promise, Warden. Yet somehow I am always disappointed. We will see if you finally deliver the goods with this one. You may go." The man spoke with regal disdain. He was tall, pale and broad shouldered. His black hair was cropped close to his head. He eyed Kyra over, "And next time, Willis – have her sent directly here. I don't want your hack's clumsy attempts to mar her."

"Of course…"

The man waved Willis out. She studied him some more. Something told her he would push her to her limits and beyond. "Do you fight, girl? Um…. I can see in your eyes that you do. Good." He walked up and twisted his fingers in her hair. "I like women with spirit. It makes it more of a challenge to break them." She spat in his eye. He laughed, slapped her hard enough to rattle her teeth, and hauled her out of the mobile restraints she'd arrived in. Her head spun, and her face stung from his hand connecting with it. He dragged her by her hair over to a set of chains in the center of the room. She thought he was going to rip her hair right out of her head. Kyra gathered enough of her wits to fight him as he moved to re-shackle her. He caught her by her throat and squeezed. His laugher filled the small room. She clawed his hand, making him bleed, but to no avail. He cut off her air until she went limp.

She was not quite unconscious as he chained her up. He smeared his bloody hand over her naked flesh and then blew across the moisture knowing how she'd react to the chill created as the blood dried. He had a table of instruments that looked like they came from an ancient creep show. They were darkly stained from use. Barbed, hooked, sharp, curved, pointed… Kyra took them in but refused to be scared by them. "Let's play, shall we? For my first act, I will see if you pass my self-devised endurance test. How loud can you scream?" He picked up a knife and moved over to her. "I know a place where I can cut right into your gut, and you would live…." He put the knife against her side above her pelvis and measured himself against it. "Perfect." She screamed as the knife sliced through muscle. She felt her own hot blood run down her leg. It seemed to turn him on judging by the growing heat from his groin. Her mind dimly noted the sound of a zipper. Agony exploded along her side forcing her to scream again and again as he used the wound for his gratification. For some reason he lasted a very long time. She was hoarse by the time his seed was spent. The salt in the wound burned like nothing else could. Her last scream was nothing but a croak. He cleaned the wound to her whimpers, and stitched it up with the skill of a surgeon. Kyra passed out to the soft sound of his voice and the feel of the heat from his breath against her ear; "I marked you, and now you are mine…"

Blackness. Blackness and whispers. She groaned and forced her eyes open. A familiar but blurred face hovered over her. There were people around her. Convicts. They all looked worried. Kyra blinked and got her eyes to focus on Charlie. Her hip hurt. It burned. "Hey, Kiddo. You're not checking out without me are you?" Charlie checked the wound. She realized that it burned because the convicts had made some type of hot pack to put on it. She groaned again.

"Fuck no, Charlie. When I go you're coming with me," her voice was a croak.

"Man, she's a fighter, isn't she?" another voice, not one she knew.

"Damn straight she is. Lupe, get her some tea, okay?" Charlie propped her up as the convicts shuffled around her to let Lupe out and back in.

"Here." Kyra watched the tea pass to Charlie who made sure it was exactly what he asked for before he offered it to her. She took it in shaky hands and sipped. The hot liquid was bitter as hell, but it soothed her throat.

"So how do we keep the Mercs from taking her again, Charlie? That fucker just about crushed her windpipe."

"I don't know. Her being unconscious worked the last time. But we all know it won't work forever," Charlie applied some slimy dirty looking sludge to Kyra's neck, "for the bruise…"

"How long?" She managed.

"Couple of days. You ran a fever. I was fearful that the wound was infected, but it looks okay."

Kyra closed her eyes again. "I'm not gonna let him break me, Charlie. No matter what he does."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Aereon closed her eyes as another report made its way to her indicating that the _plague_ was spreading. World after world, system after system, starting on the fringes of human civilization and working slowly inward, were going silent and dark. She didn't even need to look at the images to know _who_ was the cause. No. She blamed herself. Had she chosen death over revealing her secrets to Zhylaw then he wouldn't have known and perhaps things would have already rebalanced themselves. But for the last thirty years the universe instead spun more and more off center. And it was her fault. The guilt of her selfish actions, of her childish desire to live, kept her awake at night, although she couldn't actually say why.

The Furyans were a force as wild and untamed as any other. Chaos flowed in their wake; they were the antithesis of all that was civilized.

Some dared call them evil. She had, once, when youth distorted her perception. She was older now.

Her concept of evil had shifted as she matured. With the looming threat before her, it was Furya and its warriors that she hoped for, although she had no idea where to look for the survivors of the massacre called The Great Infanticide. They had to have scattered to the distant reaches known space, blending in with other human races in ways that Elementals and Rychengolls, the only two remaining Elder Races, could never hope to match.

This report brought the known systems to fall to seven, not counting the number of outer colonies and aborted settlements that had been lost over the years. _They_ were getting bolder, hitting planets that sat along the shipping lanes between the major powers. So far the planets hit were those that had tried to stay independent. Soon though, far too soon, Zhylaw would become so cocksure that he'd take out someplace bound to be noticed, like Taurus or Aquila. Neither system would listen to her, or hear her warning, as Elementals were looked at with suspicion.

She looked up toward the bed where her younger lover slept uneasily. Carolyn had been upset and tense for months now. Between her own guilt and Carolyn's silence a wedge was growing between them that saddened her a great deal. She calculated that the odds were the two issues were related. Aereon could only hope that if she started the process of opening up that Carolyn would respond in kind. They needed to talk about it, whatever the problem was.

Her mind popped up with a random thought, 'Perhaps Helion would listen?' She stood and moved over to the viewport and promptly lost track of time as she stared out at the stars.

Carolyn opened her eyes. Aereon was not in the bed, again. 'I really suck at relationships. If I don't open up to her, its gonna fall apart. Just like always. I'm so tired of being alone.' The blonde scrubbed her face with her hands before throwing off the light blankets and getting up. She spotted the older woman standing at the window, lost in thought. "Love?" she queried softly.

"Its – I need to tell you something, Carolyn. I can't expect you to open up to me if I'm keeping secrets from you. But I'm fearful that you'll - hate me - after I've told you," Aereon didn't even move her eyes from the visage in front of her.

"Hate you? How could I ever hate you? Aereon, what is wrong?" Fry moved up to support her lover when she noticed the other woman was shaking. "Hey, nothing could be that bad." She curled her arms around the elemental and was rewarded, as Aereon seemed to melt into her embrace.

The older woman let the younger warm her; truly fearful that this might be the very last time Carolyn Fry willingly got this close to her. "Quintessa informed me that another world, a colony on the edge of a shipping lane between Lupus and Helion went mysteriously dark and silent a week ago." She closed her eyes, "This brings the total to seven human settlements lost in the last seven cycles. I don't even have to wait for the images to come back from the investigation to know what the cause is, Carolyn. There's not much time left, and I don't have much hope that it can be stopped due to my foolish actions when I was younger." 

The one-time pilot turned the emissary toward her; "We all make mistakes in our youth, all of us. If something or someone can stop it, then there is still hope, Aereon. You are making this sound like the end of the 'Verse as we know it."

"It might very well be. You see, I know these – beings. I've seen them, their ships, and their battles… The destruction they bring. And I knew back then that there was only one thing that could stop them. They go by many names, Carolyn, but only one is their true name. By the superstitious they are called 'The Hood of the Devil'. By those who lose contact with loved ones on distant worlds never knowing why, their name is 'The Great Silence'. By those who have seen the towering statues left behind on dead planets, they're called 'The End'," Aereon gave the blonde woman a gentle squeeze before stepping away.

Carolyn turned as the misty form moved away from the window and settled down on the couch, looking tired and stressed. Questions plagued her mind but she knew better than to interrupt.

"But all can agree on this - they're a plague that now sweeps through the ever-dwindling worlds of man," Aereon stated nearly in a whisper. "Were they once men themselves? Are they still men? And do they think of themselves as part of the grand era they have devoted themselves to eradicating? Can this really be their faith?"

"What are you trying to say, Aereon? These worlds, these dead settlements, have fallen to a religious jihad?"

The Elemental looked at her, "Hard to say. Even I, one of the few people to have ever encountered a_ Necromonger _and lived to speak of it, even I don't pretend to fathom them. Truly, you must be a Necromonger before you can understand the Necromonger way."

Carolyn stared at her lover feeling a rising flutter in her gut that she couldn't pin down the cause of. Something about this made her panic. Knowing the name they called themselves didn't help. Instead it made it more real, more threatening. Her mouth worked like a fish gasping out of water.

"Yet there's one thing I do know," Aereon gave her a wan smile, "One thing I calculate to be true. There is a balance to everything in the universe, and the balance to the Necromongers are _Furyans_."

Fry paled. Her silent gaping gave way to one word, "_What_?" It seemed as if the floor was opening up and swallowing her.

"How many Furyans still exist, Carolyn? Do you know where they might be found?" The two women locked eyes. Aereon could tell that Carolyn knew something. The knowledge was evident in her shocked expression.

How to lie, now, if she hoped to keep this relationship? Carolyn Fry knew she couldn't. But she also couldn't break her promise to Richard. She felt tears in her eyes, "I – I can't. I _promised_, Aereon. I – owe too much to them to say anything that might put them in danger."

"Are they not already in danger, Carolyn? Just by virtue of their survival, by the very _blood_ that flows through their veins, they are endangered. Do you think that the rest of the 'Verse will fall but they will survive? It's simply not possible. The will be found, with or without what you know. If they are found sooner then perhaps there's a hope that the battle can be joined at their choosing, not at the enemy's. Of course finding them is only half the task. If they can be compelled to act, well.… These are the questions that the whole universe now hinges on."

Carolyn took a deep breath. Riddick was going to slit her throat when he found out that she said _anything_. She squeezed her eyes closed, "Imam Abu al-Walid knows. That girl, Audrey, was half-Furyan. Abu was fairly sure that the man she left Helion with was full blood Furyan. But as for where they were to have gone, only he knows. I told them not to tell me. I didn't want the Company to get the information about their location from me. It was better that I not know."

"This Audrey is the same one that is in Kovan Penal?"

Fry nodded, unable to meet Aereon's eyes and chewing on her lip as she did so.

"That can't be, Carolyn. The Audrey Johnastein on file there has no Furyan biodata in her profile."

Shocked blue eyes finally focused on the Elemental. Carolyn blinked. Did Jackie pull the same trick with her own identity that she'd managed for Richard? If so, then _Who_ was it in that Kovan prison?

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kyra's life took on a pattern, one that she mentally lifted herself above. The wound healed. The servicing trips happened on a bi-weekly basis. She had no idea why she had trouble getting into the 'Goll religious services, but she had a feeling that it had to do with money being made by Willis over her trips out of double max. She kept trying, week after week to get the 'Golls to notice her. And week after week they passed her by. She was getting more than a little pissed over it. Her plan of escape hinged on getting into those services…

She lost track of time. Unsure of how long she'd been there, not being seen by any hacks at all for any reason because the "client" didn't want her touched by them, Kyra had to rely on the cures provided by Charlie for her various bruises, cuts, wounds, burns, and illnesses she suffered through because of the rough treatment she was receiving. But internally it toughened her. It forged her soul into tempered steel. It made her more tolerant of pain. And she forced herself to continue her fighting inside the double-max, kicking and clawing her way to the top of the chain… and she took Charlie with her. Soon Charlie controlled much of the resources. Having it all though seemed to mellow him some. He was more generous because he knew he had plenty for himself. Life almost became pleasant for most folks under Charlie. Kyra still had to deal with the guards, though.

She learned to move lightening fast, with cat-like grace. She learned how to make the guards fuck up and hurt each other before catching her. Each time they went to take her for servicing it got harder. Eventually it got so hard that guards started dying. She killed without remorse. Heavier guards were brought in. Even they had trouble. The armor that protected them also made them slow. Slow enough that even when she felt sick she could slip away to places where they couldn't get at her. It passed like that for several weeks with the guards unable to catch her. But the illness she felt did not go away. She tried to hide the signs, but Charlie noticed them. The weeks stretched into a month… then the month into two. Finally Charlie came to her with a rare token from the 'Goll priesthood. A guaranteed acceptance into the next service. He pressed it into her hands. "Take it, get the fuck out, Kyra… Or in six months you'll be sorry."

"You're coming with me…"

"No. I'd slow you down. Go on. Get in line. They have to take you. Just show them the token."

"You're fucking coming with me, Charlie!" Kyra gripped his collar with her free hand. He shook his head. "Why not?" Her fingers held the token tightly.

"Oh, come on. You can't really not know what is going on." He put his hand under her chin. The look in his eyes scared her. Suddenly she figured it out… she backed up and shook her head. "Go on, Kyra. You don't want to have it here… Dr. Torture will make you watch while he does the most horrific things to it. I know. I've been here long enough to see what he does."

She swallowed and headed off to the lineup for the 'Goll services. It was early still. The maze was dark and quiet. She reached the lineup point and the handful of others desperate enough to want out or brainwashed enough to believe the Rychengoll religious bullshit were not happy about her arrival. She stared at them and took her place. After a few hours one of the Brothers came out and walked the line. He, like others of his religion, wore charcoal gray flowing robes. Where you got in line didn't seem to matter. He skipped the first 3 people, touched the man next to her in line, looked at her and started to pass. She held up the token, "Hey…" He stopped and glanced back at her. It took him a moment to see the token. A frown crossed his face before he touched her. Kyra turned and followed the man that had been admitted seconds before. It was the first time she'd gone through the door into the worship hall.

Her eyes scanned the room. It was clean, unlike the rest of double max. Heavy wooden seats with odd-looking attachments on top of them formed neat rows across the concrete floor. There was no pulpit, nor a single sign that this room was used for worship. She followed the first inmate and took the chair next to him.

He looked over at her, "Whatever you do, don't scream… They kick out the screamers."

She nodded at him.

He turned to look toward the front mumbling, "If you are lucky they will hook you up first…"

With her eyes focused straight ahead, she listened as the other inmates slowly filed into the room in a trickle. The other 'Goll priests' softly clad feet whispered across the floor while the convicts' loud footfalls seemed almost rude in comparison. Kyra watched them mill about as the seats filled behind her. Part of her would rejoice to discover that God really existed… not that she believed that He did so in the way that the Rychengolls claimed. What type of god demanded what the Breathen displayed? Their blind faces showed evidence that they large knives had been used to remove their eyes. Cut scars indicated that each orb had been stabbed more than once. She guessed that it had been self-inflicted. The flesh where the eyes had been was mangled and roughly healed over. But that was not the most horrific thing about the pair settled in the front and center of the room – no, and Kyra could not think of much else that was more so, even with everything she'd been through. The two Breathen were connected like freakish Siamese twins, back to back, sharing a cybernetic nervous system the undoubtedly eliminated any problems caused by the blindness. 'Did the pair have any free will at all?' she wondered.

While the inmate besides her continued to babble, and Kyra easily tuned out the annoyance, she glanced over at him and nearly laughed out loud. His hands curled in a death grip on the chair, white knuckled even though he sounded calm. After being hit with high pressure, electrified, freezing cold water… what could be worse? One of them approached her and lowered the attachment over her head. It automatically adjusted to fit her head securely. She glanced up at the priest who seemed more intent on the machine over her head than her. After a moment's thought she decided to stay quiet.

"Please relax and look to the front of the room," she was ordered by a gentle but gruff voice. With effort she forced the tension out of her body. "Good…" A device was lowered over her eyes. What happened next was something she had never imagined could happen. The flat shield that blocked her vision also contained metal braces that mechanically fit over her eyes, forcing them open and unblinking. This was followed by long needles that slid into her eyes. She bit back the panic and pain, not sure if what she felt was horror induced or real. Kyra chided herself, 'You are tougher than this. No matter what these fuckers do to you, you can beat it. If this is the cost for freedom, then you can pay it.'

But what she saw… the visions that were fed into her mind, they shocked her with their cruel disregard for individuality. Part of her rebelled at the brainwashing attempts. The pain was easy to endure. She rode it like most would accept pleasure. After being raped, beaten, tortured by madmen… This pain was a little thing, so small and easy to endure. She had to play along, though. Freedom was worth acting like she believed the crap being piped into her brain. Freedom… if not for herself then for the innocent life Charlie believed she carried. Perhaps it would be easier to not have to pretend? Could she just slip into it? Could she believe? Kyra forced the thoughts away. It was a trap, only a way of changing one prison for another, and she couldn't do that.

Her mind was all she had left. She'd die before she lost it.


	31. Spinning Out of Control

**A/N:** _Wow it's been seven months. Gee. My Muse failed me. I had intended this to be a Kyra chapter, but … My Muse is still silent on that. So, change of plans. This is a mixed chapter with a lot of Riddick and Jack. Oh well, I suppose you folks are getting used to the slow pace of this story…_

**A Passage, 31**

_Spinning out of Control_

Jackie, once known as Audrey, had learned the hard way to take the knocks life dealt her in stride. Hardship, hunger, constant cold, hard work – these things were the stuff her life had been built on because of the harsh conditions as she matured on Sigma 3, a mining world under Company control. Not only had the physical conditions of the world hardened her young soul, but the social strata there coupled with the extreme have / have not dynamics warped her perception about what was normal and what was not. Peaceful life in a loving society like Helion's would have mystified her in the long run, as she was a child of the hinterlands, one that the Company ran like an old-time slavery plantation.

Her mother had come from the Pits. Somehow she'd crossed that invisible line and by whatever grace that existed in the universe she'd brought her young daughter with her. Jackie still didn't know the full story. She suspected that her current situation had more to do with it than had been ever said out loud. Once out of the Pits, Aubrey managed to latch onto the most powerful man on Sigma 3, Carl Johastein. And for whatever reason, Carl had seen her fit to have a large number of children with her. These children were granted the social standing that made them real citizens of the 'Verse, the fabled set of birth papers that gave them interstellar rights against being held in slavery. He never officially adopted the child she already had, instead holding over them both the lack of Papers as a means of keeping them docile and under his control.

Because of the things that transpired before Jackie was old enough to understand, she'd grown up as the oldest child in a large family whose mother was an addict and whose father was abusive. Her mother took pains to make sure that she stayed small and toddler-like for as long as possible, but Carl eventually realized what was going on and forced the issue. Jackie had vague memories of being given more food than she could ever eat and being nearly forced to consume it, 'for her health'. Soon after that stopped the care of the home and children had fallen to her. She'd gotten tall enough to reach the cook surface. Taking care of herself and others was practically second nature, internalized and permanent.

She just shifted her focus from children to a single male, was all.

It seemed a lifetime ago when rain was cold and the ground being muddy was a threat. A lifetime ago when she felt the need to avoid people and keep herself hidden in the shadows unless her mother needed her for something. A lifetime ago when mining and virtual slavery was a fact of existence and a slip of paper was the only thing keeping the classes apart. She could almost forget the threat of the slave pits and being pimped out now. Almost. Only a fool could ignore the faded scars from the nightstick that decorated her back. But she supposed that for the time she had, life was good. She didn't expect it to last, so every day was lived as if there was no tomorrow even though they prepared for it.

But life _was_ good. This was because she'd gotten away from the Company. Her blind flight had been fraught with danger, threats at every stage of the way, even after she'd found him the danger had been there. Sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if the _Hunter-Gratzner_ hadn't crashed. She'd be with Shazza and Zeke, likely, moving through the ghost lanes from one job to another… Sometimes she missed them. They'd almost been real parents to her, even though they thought she was a boy. Neither of them deserved to die, but then she wouldn't have been forced to make the choices she'd made if the crash hadn't happened.

Maybe it was destiny. The forces of fate pushed the ship out of the heavens onto that world, because there was no other way to make sure that she'd end up here, with him. No other way to force him to let her into his thick protective shell where he needed her to be. She had no regrets. She'd chosen him and him alone. She'd given him her body and her soul. Her full trust. Everything she was focused on his needs and his desires. She'd told him once that she'd follow him to the ends of the 'Verse, and she meant it. She still did.

So he'd brought her here. Jackie paused to scan the small valley with its high ring of mountains and frozen lake. Always her awareness was stretched to the limits, because there were threats here too. Urzo, Saber Cats, even smaller challengers to the fish she'd lifted to the surface through a hole in the ice. An alarm horn sat within reach so that she could put up an alert if she had to flee from the bounty she was in charge of. The dim purple star that was this world's sun was barely above the morning horizon, slowing climbing into a gray but clear sky. The frigid air was still and calm. Faint wisps of icy clouds hovered in the distance, teasing of returning snows. This was a different world from her birth, one where rain was warm, in comparison, at least to the icy snows that fell most of the year. UV6, a world of cold dim ice, a place where she could help carve out a life that was free, if hard.

The weathered young sun-bleached blonde never complained. Not when she mended clothes by firelight, nor when she scraped enough of some plant matter or another together to add to the food supplies. Even now, as she tended to the fishing nets with chilled stiff fingers, she had no reason to moan or groan about her fate. She was, amazingly enough, happy. The thought that soon she'd be back at the cave with a load of fish for the food stores and that shortly after her man would arrive with whatever kills he managed to make, that they were _together_ was all she needed.

It was this sense of bliss that colored her existence here that let her overlook the weakening connections with Furya and the lessened numbers of visions and visits. At one point she might have been concerned at the loss of this lifeline to her old life, but now… she truly didn't need it. Because of this she had not noticed the visions stopping. She'd been too busy to care, really. Rich needed her to be on her toes, aware of the current situation, not mentally stuck on some far-away world with an orange sun. Thus she focused on the here and now with single minded devotion. Perhaps the spirits of Furya couldn't reach her in this mental state.

But on this day, someone else would reach out to her. Jackie stood, head cocked to the side as her mental awareness of the faint psychic touch made the insides of her ears tingle slightly. She shook her head and walked the rest of the way to the small ice-block and skin shelter erected on the edge of the fishing spot. Soon her work pushed the odd pre-warning out of her mind. Over half a day passed, with Jackie alternately hauling up nets and putting them back again, doing some careful storage and crafting while she waited in the little lean-to shelter in between times. It seemed like nearly every other day she'd come out to the lake. But then in the late afternoon something strange happened.

She was out at the cut hole carefully drawing up the nets when she looked across the ice and realized she was staring into her own face… Only it wasn't her. It couldn't be. This was no reflection, and Jackie had never had a waking vision quite like this before. Normally she was transferred to another place and time with her visions, but this… It was more like a window across a vast distance. A smudge in space allowing her to view something that someone thought she needed to see. So she took in the vision as she might any other, carefully noting each detail and locking it into her mind. At first there were no thoughts, no questions, just blank observations of what she was seeing. But soon Jack's rising panic would overflow those few moments of logical calm with a flood of questions that couldn't be answered.

The first thing Jackie noticed was, of course, the face. Same cheeks, same forehead, same eye shape, same lips… different chin? This puzzled Jackie for a moment before a remembered image of her mother floated into her mind. Her mother's chin. Was she seeing her mother? But no… Her mother could never, ever, have that look in her eyes that this woman had. A look that was deadly, sharp, and hate filled. Icy blue eyes. Angered, pissed off, _blue_ eyes. Her mother's eyes had not been blue. Well, not this shade of blue. Not an almost-green, blue. But she knew that color; she'd grown up with it. Those were Carl Johanstein's eyes in her face. Jackie knew that they didn't belong there.

The first tinges of panic were starting to settle in. She pushed the feeling away. She had to remain calm. Just observe. The other woman had hair, gosh, lots of curly brown hair. Her mother's hair. Jackie's own hair had some of the wave, but was much softer in texture. Her father's hair likely, just like she had her father's eye color. Not Carl Johastein. No. Some other male, someone her mother knew in the Pits. Someone who had died to save her. This part of the puzzle she'd been told. Carl Johastein had brown hair too, but it was straight and rather mousy, not this rich color that she was observing even though the hair in question was matted and dirty. When clean, that hair would be stunning.

She took some refuge in the fact that there were recognizable things about this visage, this unknown woman. Her mother shone through clearly. Was this a sibling? One of Johastein's kids? No. She was too old. The next oldest child had been a boy, after all. The panic was starting to rise in Jackie's gut again, filling her with warm jitters that threatened to make her sick. She took in a deep breath of cold icy air and forced herself to not cough from the shock to her lungs. Slowly she gained her feet; hands still tangled in the fishing nets. She backed away and the other figure stayed crouching, fighting nausea back, clearly angered at her weakness over her own body.

Jackie closed her eyes, retreating to the lean-to, nets and fish trailing behind her. The sensation of being trapped followed her. She paused just outside the shelter, unable to force herself to go inside. _Not my feelings, it can't be. I'm not trapped_. She turned back to look at the image, the window that was still there. The woman, in her stained clothing, was crouched down in such a way that suggested a small space. Jackie knew then that she was feeling the other woman's sensations. Her nausea, her claustrophobia, maybe even her panic. The stained jumpsuit the other was wearing might have been a uniform. The worn boots were a heavy-soled slip on type, no laces. They seemed to stay on with a series of short straps that stuck down somehow. The strange symbols on the front of the one-piece might have been numbers, but not of a language Jackie knew.

Then the woman looked up, her face twisted into a snarl almost like she was saying 'what the fuck are you looking at'. It was at that moment that something clicked inside Jackie's soul. This other person was her, but not her. This was the woman that the wanted posters had shown. They were connected, and they could see each other. Or at least they saw each other's environment. An odd sense of numbness settled over her, like someone else was helping to smother her panic. Jackie swallowed.

This was like looking at a nightmare, a horrible what-if that was turning out to be all too real. She began to back away, rattled by the sight. The other woman's blue eyes hadn't actually focused on hers, seemingly looking past and toward the shelter. Jackie couldn't breathe. The rising panic forced its way through the numbness as the other woman, her twin-that-was-not begun sweeping her eyes over the landscape, taking in the ice and snow and gray sky with it's purple star. Jack knew that it was only a matter of time before those angry, sharp eyes that missed nothing spotted her.

It was worse than just being spotted, though. Jack could have turned away, let the woman see her back. But she was riveted to the spot, unable to look away. The blue eyes darted closer, closer, then up and their eyes met. It was like lightening coursing through her body. There was no doubt that the other woman saw her… The spark of recognition was almost too much, like the other woman was thinking, 'hey, that's _me_'. Jack almost screamed at the vision that was far more than a vision. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other, like long lost twins parted. Only she knew she had no twin. And this was more like seeing herself in an alternate reality.

The other woman blinked. Time jumped and started to flow again. Jackie stared at the vision as the other individual slowly registered she was seeing something out of the ordinary. The snarl faded into surprise. Feeling less shocked, Jack studied the figure closer. The woman's pale skin spoke of days without sunlight. Her own nails had torn at her dirty clothes. Able to think and question, Jack realized this woman was almost identical to her mother, likely when her mother had been younger and not so wasted. Under the grime she was pretty. Only now, seeing this younger visage of what her mother looked like did Jackie realize how much _she_ looked like her mother herself. No wonder Riddick had recognized her on the _Hunter-Gratzner_. Aside from the eye color, the softer hair texture, and the pointed chin she was almost exactly like her mother in looks.

Only, this wasn't _Aubrey_ Johastein of the past either. The blue eyes were the wrong color and her figure was too lean and too toned for that. This woman was a fighter, the sort that struggled to survive and hated being weak. Who was this woman?

Jackie focused on the woman's living conditions. The surroundings looked dismal. Dark, dirty, cramped… Jackie could see behind her what looked like crumbling stone or cement blocks littered with rubbish and filled with rodents. The roof was only a few feet above her folded form. Where was she? The feeling of panic rose again in Jackie's throat. What did this vision mean? If they were seeing each other, what was the actual truth of the 'Verse? Where had she come from? Who was responsible for her being where she was? One of them couldn't be genuine. But who was the fake? The doubts at her own identity was something new, and it bothered her.

The image faded. All she could do was stare at the blank ice and wonder. Perhaps she stared too long because after a while she noticed that it was getting dark. She hurried the nets off the ice and gathered the fish. Her trek back to the cave was a rushed one, relying on her Furyan nightvision. She had just settled the fish down when Richard came into the cave. She swept the fish into the storage hole for it and rushed to help him out of his coat and into the warmer area of the cave.

They shared the tasks of making food, bathing, mending clothes. The swapped tales about their day and what things they had seen. But Jackie never mentioned her vision. And Richard never mentioned his, either. Both of them lived in denial of this one shared trait because neither of them wanted to admit that the time they had was stolen. Stolen time never lasted. And they wanted forever.

That night she tried to forget about the day's happenings, taking refuge in the arms of her other half, focusing on him with an intensity that he rejoiced in. For Riddick this total devotion was something rare, new, precious, treasured. He never asked her why she went into these phases of near worship of him, instead choosing to return the favor the next time she gave him the chance to. Theirs was a rhythm of give and take, day in and day out. Not only together, but also in their interactions with the larger world of survival they found themselves in. Each day had a routine formed by the web of life that they were at the center of.

By morning Jack had forgotten the vision from the day before. She returned to the fishing hole and followed the routine that she'd made for herself. About midday her memory was jerked back when the vision reoccurred. This time the other woman looked quite sick. Instead of feeling panic this time Jack was worried. She sent up a silent plea that the other woman would recover, whoever she was. Then Jackie forced herself to go back to work even though the vision did not fade for hours. The feeling of being watched through the 'window' stayed with her until it faded near dusk.

Once back in the cave, Jack again focused on Rich with an intensity that blew him away. The sex was fantastic, no complaints there. But he knew something was wrong and didn't dare bring it up. Instead he waited until she'd worn herself out and protectively held her tight. Whatever it was, by morning Jack again seemed fine.

On the third day, Jackie was almost waiting for the woman to appear so she could see how she was doing. When the dark haired woman finally did, Jack breathed a sigh of relief even though the other seemed worse off than before. She'd reached through her visions before to heal and help damaged souls. Maybe that was what she needed to do here? Once Jack had the nets settled she tried everything she could think of to somehow reach across the chasm that divided them so she could heal the other woman to no avail. She wasn't even sure that her 'twin' was aware of her efforts.

That night she sobbed but was unable to tell Richard why. Baffled, he tried to distract her after letting her cry. It worked. Again by morning Jack seemed her normal chipper self. Rich offered to take over the fishing for a day so she could stay at the cave but Jackie insisted that she was Ok to handle the nets. Her problem had nothing to do with the fishing. He trusted her and agreed to let her go back to the fishing hole if that was what she wanted to do. Rich clearly knew she was bothered by something. His response to it was to make their time together in the cave as much their time as he could.

Over the next month and a half Jackie had the vision every day and the other woman seemed to be relying on them to save her sanity after she recovered from being sick. Perhaps just being there was enough to help. Then the pattern changed. The visions became sporadic, just as the first snows started to fall. It seemed that her 'twin' had been moved to another location which while was just as dirty was far less cramped. The roof seemed much higher and made of a metallic grill. It also seemed that she'd gotten new clothes. This cheered Jack up some, but she couldn't shake the sensation that the woman was in prison somewhere.

It was a hard thing to not think about it… to not bring the visions to Riddick's attention, especially when she happened to have one in the cave while the storms kept them both inside. She wondered if her 'twin' realized what and whom she was seeing or if she even cared.

Riddick never noticed the 'window', even if it was open while he was there. But he did spot Jack's blank look on occasion, like she was seeing something so very far away. He would, when this happened, settle down behind her and take the work out of her hands. He'd murmur softly into her hair and kiss her neck. And she'd come back to him. He'd try to ground her, to keep the vision away, not knowing what it was she saw and not caring either. All he knew was that she kept his visions at bay while he was with her, just by being there and if he couldn't do the same then he was failing at his duty to her in his own mind at least.

For the first time in Jackie's life she knew what it was to be alive without fear, and living to rules that were forged from nature itself as opposed to mankind's laws. Weeks stretched into months and months into seasons… She felt in her element. And Riddick was at her side… Slowly the memory of the other woman and the strange visions melted into the experience of her life and became normal, or as normal as life could be on such a harsh world.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Carolyn Fry looked up at the woman standing at her shoulder as she studied the information about one Audrey Johastein that had been somehow gleaned from Kovan records. The current Captain of the Quintessan ship _Gale_ had little medical knowledge, but she knew enough to see that this young woman was completely normal. Fully human. "I should tell you something about Audrey. Something that could get her into huge trouble with the law. Please don't judge her until you know everything."

The Elemental placed a calming hand on Carolyn's shoulder, "I've got no authority to condemn anyone. Tell me what you know."

"She's the best computer hacker I've ever seen. I watched her hack into the guild database with a secured guild link-up, through the tightest security, like it was nothing. Give her a computer and Jack can do anything with it. Set off alarms, switch identities…"

"… cause ships to go off course and completely lock out all controls?" Aereon finished.

"Er… yeah. She did that with the _Kubla Kahn_, to keep them from following us. Look, she had to. That Kovan bitch was insane."

"But Audrey shot her, blew her head off, Carolyn. Why did she need to hack into the _Kubla Kahn_'s systems?"

Fry stood up. "You want the truth? Ok. Antonia Chillingsworth had a gladiatorial pit on that ship of hers and a room filled with frozen trophies. She forced us to fight for our lives. Once we tricked her and managed to get out of her pit she sent 'goll mutants after us. For some reason she wanted Jack. None of us were going to let her put the girl in deep freeze, so we ran. Jack never wanted to shoot Antonia. The plan was that we'd get to the fight deck and flee the ship after Jack disabled it. It was going perfectly, until Smyth opened up the largest shuttle. Antoina was inside it. She shot at him. He fell. Jack shot her after. The girl thought Antonia had killed Smyth. That's why she picked up Junner's gun and shot Antonia. Ok?"

"Yes. I think I'm starting to understand. Smyth is the man Jack left Helion with. He's the Furyan, isn't he? He's Riddick. And Jack switched his identity with the real Smyth after the crash of the Hunter-Gratzner."

"Does it matter?" Carolyn turned away, "It bought them some time, some peace, on Helion. The only peace they've ever gotten and neither of them knew how to deal with it. Oh, please – Aereon I'm begging you – please leave them be."

Aereon sighed. "The fate of the Universe hangs in the balance. You know I cannot. All I can do is promise that if they stop this threat I'll do everything I can to make sure they are left alone after." Carolyn felt the weight of the universe settle on her shoulders. Her older lover walked up behind her, "I'm so sorry. This is my fault, and I take responsibility for it. To restore Furya we must find its Alpha, its king. To save the Universe we must restore Furya. If I could change the past I would, but I can't. I'm glad you still trust me, Carolyn. Can you stand by my side for the rest of the trial to follow?"

It sounded like the older woman was trying to draw strength from her to do what had to be done. Fry looked over at the tired face, lined with stress. She loved this being with all her heart. Slowly the blonde nodded. "I'll stand with you, Aereon."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The last of the snows finally gave way to the short dry period again. It might have been the planet's winter for all they knew. It was their stock up time. Time to hunt and to gather. Time to fish and to trap. Neither Riddick nor Jack paid much attention to anything else. Neither had any idea about the forces moving to flush them out of hiding. They could live their days here and be happy. It was not to say that there was a lack of crises in their new home of course, but at least they had no mercs on their necks.

Jackie could never forget the time Richard sliced his hand open while making a shiv in the cave. The blood had been all over. She'd been able to apply enough healing to keep him from bleeding out, but he'd insisted that she learn how to stitch the wound up. So she had, and he'd instructed her on every step, although he'd been in terrible pain. He joked with her, "This is why you never drink while working with sharp rocks. Got that? Ouch. No, you're doing fine, Jacket. Honest."

She'd used boiled sinew and a hooked fish bone needle to stitch the edges of his flesh together and applied a poultice to it to keep it from becoming infected. He'd forgone hunting for a week to let it heal up, choosing to trap small game and help her fish. Later that dry period she'd stumbled into a Urzo and it's kill when she was gathering moss. The alarm horn had called Richard to her side and driven the creature off. She made sure that she never left the cave without the horn after that.

They were lucky that Riddick knew a fair amount about first aid. Even Jack had those oops moments. Fishhooks through the finger, slipped shiv while skinning, even taking on a predator, in her case a saber-toothed cat, and winning meant being injured. She'd come back to the cave with the animal and a bloody side with deep gashes. The wounds she'd packed with snow to stop the blood flow, but Rich had his hands full that evening stitching her back together. The alarm horn had gotten busted, forcing her to fight. After that he insisted on keeping her in the cave for a few days until he was sure the bleeding had stopped and that the wounds were healing.

But the worse thing happened after the first snows again started to fall. She'd gone out to the trapping grounds with him to help him gather and reset the area. It only took one misstep, a small stumble that put her into the line of fire and set off one of the most deadly traps Riddick had devised to date. She saw it coming and twisted just enough to only have one of the spears hit her. The scream brought him running.

He noticed the fact that the spear had gone right through her shoulder first and that she had the sense to not move backwards along the shaft where he'd added extra barbs to it. "Hang on Jack! I'm here, babe." He touched her head as he looked at the situation. She was kneeling now, having slid down the shaft to get her knees on the ice.

"Oh, hell. I'm so stupid!" Jack gripped the spear handle with her wrapped hands, feeling anger more than pain at the moment. "Snap it off. Push it through."

Riddick nearly smiled at her. "It's gonna hurt like hell."

"It already does. Just do it quick like, Ok?"

He pulled his shiv and cut the bindings where the spear connected to the trap. "I'll pull it through from the back. It's gonna bleed, Jack."

She nodded. This she knew already. She could heal it, if he'd hurry. "Don't worry about that. Just get it out." She felt his hands on the shaft and moved hers to the wound. She took a deep breath, "Now." The movement was quick and painful, like lava through ice. But Jackie didn't scream again, instead focusing on her healing power and trying to knit the wound back together. Behind her Riddick dropped the blood covered spear and settled in behind her. She slowly fell back into him, "'m ok… honest." Her eyes slowly closed as the pain took away her ability to remain awake. He carefully packed the wound and carried her back to the cave, traps and game forgotten.

But aside from these crisis they were at peace. The rhythm of survival suited them. The seasons passed and their connection together became stronger. He knew her cycle of moods as well as she knew his. Alone on this world it would have been easy to just forget that anything else existed. Jackie's ease at adapting to UV6 made Riddick very happy. He had his doubts about how tough she was. After the first harsh winter his doubts were set to rest. After the second winter their life seemed perfect. He allowed himself to begin to think that the universe would leave them alone.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The Imam shut off the vid. He'd been debating this all along, ever since one Eva Logan contacted him about Smyth and his missing ship "just to confirm some facts." Eva had come off as a nice honest person, honest enough that she'd come out and told him she was an information broker and that Smyth's widow had a lawyer who was contesting things still about the insurance settlement.

Now Carolyn was asking him to meet with Aereon, an envoy from the Elemental homeworld. He knew of her, of course. His contacts had gotten the blonde pilot the job in the first place. But he'd never met her before and doing so meant traveling to her current location. He wouldn't leave his family. And since the Crash, he'd forsworn all travel outside Helion space. Call him paranoid, but he wouldn't risk Cryosleep anymore.

His other option was to get a formal invite for the Elemental to come to Helion. According to Captain Fry that was perfectly fine, if he could do it in three days. Abu closed his eyes for a moment and then dialed up another one of his many contacts, "Greetings. I need to speak with you about a favor. Might Helion benefit from increased contact with Quintessa? I have a contact that believes the Envoy, Aereon, might be in our area next week and a formal invitation to visit would bring her here."

"Ah, Imam. That is brilliant. The Old Colonies have all but faded, only the Elementals remain in force. Kova maintains an embassy here; it only makes sense to have one for Quintessa. I will speak to the president on your behalf if you can promise a response."

"If the invite is issued within the next three days, Counselor, I can promise that we shall have more than a response. Aereon will come to Helion."

"Consider it done. I'll have the invite issued by nightfall."

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kyra had never felt more like a fly in a spider's web. She was trapped and she knew it. But she was trapped near the edge and if she played the game correctly she might have a shot at freedom. The trick was to act passive until the time was right. To the 'Golls she could act passive meek. They wouldn't do the things to her that the mercs had done. They wouldn't force her to fight for every scrap. But they would hurt her, and they would try to force her mind into believing things that weren't true if she wasn't very careful.

First, though she had to get out of the prison. To do that she needed to endure this trial, convince them that she swallowed their crap, so that they would take her out of here. More was at stake than just her mind. She trusted that what she'd been told was the truth and that there'd been only one way that very valuable token had ended up in her hands and not in Charlie's. She knew he wanted out as much as she had. But instead he'd given her the token and she had no idea what he'd paid to get in the first place, nor how much it would cost him in the long run with her gone. For all she knew he'd be dead by nightfall without her there to protect him. But she couldn't ever look back.

The 'Golls hooked her into a device that held her head firm and steady. Her eyes were forced open and misted with a soothing solution that ran in streaks down her dirty face. Kyra hadn't even whimpered when the needle burst into tendrils that invaded her eyes, like a fine spider's web, searching for her optical nerve. It wasn't that there was no pain. No. But rather that in her mind, anything was worth the freedom that this might offer. Even death would freedom in a form, and currently any freedom she could find would do. The advice she'd been given from the white-knuckled man next to her was that quiet would be rewarded. So she was silent as the screams of those around her echoed through the room.

As the sound of screams faded so did the sensation of grayness in her eyes. It became darker. Totally black. Unnatural blackness. The complete absence of light. Then the faint chant started, at first in unintelligible rhythm that was nothing more than noise. Voices murmuring in unison. Then the chant resolved into individual words that spoke of promise and paradise. The darkness was an illusion from the sensor web she was hooked into, designed to make the words being spoken like a lilting incantation more – _sacred_. It was easier for her to listen to the flow of the noise, to not hear the meaning behind the words, as images formed, a visual echo, faintly at first, of those same ideals, paradise, promise…

She knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be. Such perfection didn't exist in this 'Verse. She doubted that it could exist in any 'Verse. Kyra made a decision. These images would be just light and color; the sermon, noise, music. She'd ride it out. There was no reason to assign meaning to the history of the Rychengoll order that played out for her deep inside her mind. No reason for her to believe these words not born out on her personal experience.

It could have been days, weeks, months, before it was over. Her sense of time had been seriously fucked with in double max anyhow, and the entire ordeal she endured now did nothing to help her. But she rode the entire thing out, watching as the 'Goll histories explained the role of the Brethren, and how she might one day fit into the ranks if found worthy. It might have been interesting, if she'd been paying attention to more than the changes in light and shadow, or the flickering colors that played against her optical nerve.

When the device came off, the room was lit by a single candle. Even that light hurt. She sat on the hard wooden seat for a moment catching her breath and listening to the sounds of boots scraping against the floor. Other convicts were being dragged back out of the room, dead to the world. She found that amusing. Perhaps it was the small ghost of a grin that played on her face as Kyra slipped down onto her knees in exhaustion that was her saving grace. All she knew was that she felt far to rattled to attempt standing. Kneeling seemed so much safer, much less far to fall.

She bowed her head in an attempt to shield her eyes from the candle. Her shoulders trembled so much that she thought her elbows might knock together so she relaxed them almost into a stooped posture and placed her hands flat on the floor. The faint shuffling of feet alerted her to the arrival of one of the 'Golls. Without raising her head she flicked her gaze toward the sound. Two sets of feet. The twin, blind Brethren shuffled closer. Oh, it was hideous, what these people did to themselves. But she had no energy to spare. Even though Kyra hated being touched or having her personal space invaded she was too tired to flinch away, too tired to attack the unwelcome hand that settled in her matted hair. "This one. She Believes. Attend our newest Sister," came the odd twinned voice.

While her mind tried to process this shock, she heard a whispered, "No!" from the white-knuckled fellow that had given her advice. He was gripped by his arms and dragged away. "I passed, I did! I never screamed. I believe! No…" His voice faded as he was evicted from the room.

Kyra tried to remember how to breathe. It was a woman that approached her with a soft, "Apologies, Brethren," as she dipped her head. "May I be so honored?"

"Sister Nyrah," came the twin harmony of the Brethren's voice. "Sister, I know not your name."

"Kyra," she managed to force out, finding her voice difficult to get any volume with. There was a clicking noise behind her. Her arms were shaking violently as the tremors moved down from her shoulders. It took a moment for Kyra to comprehend that her address was not complete. "Brethren-" She felt her arms give way so that she was face down to the floor, presenting her entire back to his fury should he decide to punish her. That bothered her, feeding a fury that smoldered deep inside her belly. She forced it to cool, and her instinct to defend to be still. If she wanted to escape these freaks she would have to play along with them.

Instead, the odd harmony commanded, "Hold your whips. The child is new, and knows no better. Brother Mikal, you are tasked with educating the Sister Kyra. For now, wash the stink of this place from her. Honor her. Worship her that the grace of God has touched." The Brethren shuffled away.

She breathed air as a free woman for the first time in years, thanks to that token. The Rychengolls didn't even tell Willis who it was that they took, only that they had found a true believer. She was given the name of her choice, Kyra, as a sister of the 'Goll order, dressed in new clean soft gray robes after a bath that washed away the grime and dirt of double max. She felt a bit out of sorts, at first. Her hair once again was past the middle of her back, a mass of brown curls that reminded her of her mother's hair. They let her wear it loose, spilling over the hood and down her back.

Brother Mikal was to be her guide. He was a plain looking bloke with a soft voice. He told her that she had to pass tests in order to ascend and become one of the brethren. The first task she was assigned was conversion of 15 souls, from a foreign world. That world would be chosen for her based on her background. Kyra struggled to not look at him like he was crazy, instead nodding meekly like she'd seen others doing. Converting others might take her years. Then again, that might not be such a bad thing.

Nearly a week passed with a whirlwind of medical tests, none of which actually did more than indicate she was malnourished. The 'Golls didn't bother testing her to see if there was a reason why, as the prison was supposed to not allow the inmates to breed. She was given a carefully crafted diet to address her needs though. It was strange that she could sleep in a soft bed that was clean, warm, and dry, without fear of being hosed down by a sadistic guard. She still started when one of the other converts came up on her without warning. One of the other men, a disfigured fellow with patchy gray hair simply barked a laugh at her and said, "Don't let it bother you, Sister. Few get out of that place with their sanity intact. With time, God will heal you." She gave him a typically glassy expression and nodded. Inside though, she wondered how long she could keep up the act and play like she'd been tamed. The only thing she regretted about leaving the prison was that Willis was still alive.

Kyra slowly settled into a routine that calmed her nerves. It was easy for her to hide the changes that were happening to her under the flowing robes. It was easy to deny it, at first. A few pounds of increased weight was nothing more than finally being able to eat and eat well. The fact that she was hungry all the time was simply her body trying to recover from being in prison, she told herself. She expected that her figure would become softer looking because she wasn't struggling for every moment of life anymore. But the first proof of what had happened, the undeniable signs that the weight was concentrated in one spot, sent her into a state of panic for several hours after she noticed the increased swell to her middle. She had been with the 'Golls for month by that point. She needed to get out. She had to get away.

She went so far as to approach a Brethren and beg for an assignment off world. She got down on her hands and knees and pleaded with the creature with as much devout desperation as she could wring from her torn soul. Within a week she was on her way to Helion with Mikal. Once there she would work out of the Kovan embassy and try to convert 15 individuals to the 'Goll faith. Or so they thought. Kyra hoped she could find Imam again, and this time she would stay with him and let him help her. She would do anything and everything he asked her to do, even if it meant hiding in his basement for a year. She just hoped he'd believe her when she told him what had happened.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Three cycles passed on UV6 that were peaceful, not full years, mind, but cycles of weather. Riddick was out hunting Urzo. The local pride of them was becoming bolder, threatening Jack with their attempts to claim the fishing hole. And besides, he needed a new pair of shoes. It was snowing lightly, a freak storm during the normally dry season. He'd headed to the white hills north of the cave where the Urzo tracks were the most often seen. He'd experienced tingles of warnings that his visions were returning. Mostly he pushed them away, ignored them. He'd been able to do this for so long that this particular morning he'd disregarded the warnings and gone out to hunt anyhow. He likely should have stayed in the cave with Jack.

Instead he was several hours walk away, listening and scanning. The Urzo he was after had taken the bait and was behind him. It was a dangerous game of tag. The steps involved tracking and spotting a Urzo and then acting like you were after something else in the hopes that the semi-intelligent creature would follow you to scavenge your kill. To this end it was like leading a bear to a trap while covered in honey. Dangerous to the extreme.

The buzzing he felt was pushed aside. He knew that the bipedal, furry, ugly, mean predator was behind him as he casually 'tracked' something into a large ice cavern. He knew that the Urzo saw with heat, so he removed his furs as a distraction and climbed up out of the creature's line of sight. He was waiting for the Urzo to arrive when the whispers started…it was a momentary distraction as he pushed the sounds aside. He needed to focus. He was luring quarry into a trap, and he needed to be mentally here for the fight. Damn it.

Riddick narrowed his eyes and realized that the creature was just out of the trap… he could still kill it if he moved fast enough. He cut loose like a coiled spring and landed on the creature's chest burrowing in both shivs to the hilt before springing away. The Uzro flew back and landed on its arse before standing back up quite enraged. Riddick inwardly cursed his timing. It should have been a clean kill. The creature lunged at him and he cut into its soft tissue, gutting it.

He was still catching his breath when the voice startled him, "You've learned to use your gift well, Riddick." He spun, looking for the source of the voice. There was nothing in the cave with him to explain the sound, and yet he knew it. that voice. It was her. "But such darkness dwells behind those luminous eyes…"

"These? These were a gift from a slam preacher. Got them a long time ago," he growled at the air. Last time he'd heard her this clearly, in fact. She'd told him then that he would finally begin to see, that his world would become more colorful. He remembered this only after his boast. Shit.

"Funny how one chooses to remember the past…" That was a scolding. He closed his eyes. Why was she talking to him now? There was a long pause and for a second he thought the voice was gone, then it started up again. "You cannot escape destiny, Riddick."

_Fuck you. You can't make me go back, I won't leave Jack here. Fuck you all_, his mind supplied. But what he said was far less crude, "I can escape anything."

"Like Butcher Bay?" Those words flooded him with memories he'd tried to forget. Pain he'd wanted to lock away forever. Every single instance of strangeness he'd ever experienced played for him again. The orange sun. The fading planet. The ruins. The scavengers picking away at the remains of a lost civilization. His unexplained feats of strength. His mental blankouts. Children crying. Burning. Marching feet. The rapid-fire vision ended with a flood of knowledge that told him they were coming no matter what he thought.

"Butcher Bay…" he looked at the ground. "So the shit starts again, huh?" But the voice was now silent. Shaken, Richard stood breathing in and out while his mind tried to resolve what it saw and deny what it knew at the same time. Time. He and Jack were out of time. He was wasting time. He needed to get back to her, to make sure she was still safe. Now. He hauled the kill back to the cave and staunchly set about making himself a new pair of shoes once he knew she was there. He left the creature in the storage area to drain, but said little to Jackie about what he'd experienced.

Jackie watched him. It had been a long time since he'd been this unapproachable. But she had to bridge this gap. She walked over to him and put a hand on his cheek. He raised his eyes to hers and she knew he still needed her as much as he ever had. Nothing had changed about that. He let go of the tools and the feet and wrapped his arms around her waist. She let him pull her close so that his face was against her stomach. She stroked her hands over his head. "I saw something in the sky today… A vapor trail."

He didn't seem surprised. Instead he tightened his grip on her slightly, as if she might fade away at any moment. "It was likely nothin' babe. Space dust falling from the sky."

She shook her head, "How long we been here, hon? There's never been a vapor trail in that sky."

"What then, smart ass?"

"I think a ship landed today," She got a hooded stare as he raise his face to look up at her. "What happened out there? Are you injured?"

"Bruised, nothing big," his face formed a frown. Both of them had grown wild, dread locked hair and Riddick had a full beard. Jackie watched his expression. "I want you to stay at the cave tomorrow."

"And you? What are you going to do?" His arms released her and she sat down next to him. After a moment she picked up his old boots. "I can fix this."

"Yeah. Fix those. I'm gonna check out the sighting. Which way did you see the trail heading?"

"South. Close to the crash site. Might have been more than one," she started cleaning the boot in question so that she could repair it. Riddick watched her pale slightly. She looked up at him with a look of sadness in her eyes. "Why now, Riddick? Why do they have to be here now?"

"Don't know babe. You tell me what's changed this season…" he stopped and looked at her. They both knew why.

"There can be no future until _you_ reconcile the past," Jackie whispered.

"She been talking to you again?"

"Yes. You know, they bought us as much time as they could. They tried…" Jackie's sob broke her thoughts. Richard's face hardened. He gathered her up into his arms. If mercs had landed he'd take it right back to the source… all the way to the client. He'd kill everyone involved. No matter who it was. Jackie shook in his grasp; her layered furs hiding a softening in her body that had just began to be noticeable. She had finally begun to store a thicker layer of fat under her skin. He carefully hugged her tighter. There was nothing he could say to make this better. The main decision to be made was if he would take her off this world when the time came or leave her here and let her cope with the situation alone. Neither option suited him. She quieted down. "If they hurt you I'll kill them all, hon."

"Babe, you won't… 'cuz they won't. Try to stay out of sight until I determine how many there are and who they are after. Okay?" She nodded, bit her lip and nuzzled his neck. He picked her up and carried her to their bed. Like every other night on this world they indulged in their passion for one another like it was the last night they had. Only this time Jackie felt that it truly might be. She strove for a perfect mingling of souls, taking her knowledge of his body with as much gusto as he took his knowledge of hers. Once was not enough. This night was not enough. They crashed into bliss until neither could rouse to do it again. Then they held each other like the physical contact would merge them closer.

Richard buried his face in Jackie's hair. His emotions clattered through his soul, a soup of everything dark and painful, hate, fear, and anger. He could hear Jackie whispering… "I got you. You're safe here." A tear slipped down his cheek… He had to make good on that. He had to keep her safe. He felt her drift off to sleep. She was his universe now. Everything he invested in was right here, living and breathing in his arms. Sleep refused to come. He took in a deep breath of her scent and ran his fingers lightly over her back until she wiggled and turned in his arms exposing her belly. His hand rested there, feeling the slight swell straining against the hardened muscles. It was so slight that it wasn't visible yet. He imagined feeling a second soft heartbeat there. He focused his attention on protecting. There was no time for grief, or for doubt. They had made it this far… Fine, if destiny wouldn't leave him be he'd just have to meet it head on and kill anyone who tried to mess with what was his.

If the 'Verse wanted to play, he'd play. Only the rules would be his rules this time.

Jackie dreamt again of Furya. This time she stood up and demanded answers. "What are you sending us out to defeat, Shirah? Why are they after us?" She screamed the questions out at the empty landscape, "Shirah!" She was angry. How could she not be?

Shirah approached with care. "They didn't exactly leave their name behind, Jackie. I will show you what they look like."

"About time. Mercs on the doorstep… Why can't the universe just end already?"

The blond warrior woman raised an eyebrow at the healer; "You don't really want that, do you?" She watched as Jackie lowered her head and shook it, "I thought as much. It's the unexpected that makes this hard, Jackie. The determination of life to exist even when conditions make it nearly impossible makes it hard. Like your mate, the life inside you will not be snuffed out easily." Shirah held Jackie's chin with her hand. This half-breed was stronger that she'd originally thought possible. She let go of the young woman's face. "Few remember the crimes that happened here, Reviver. We'll never have those souls back, but we can have this world again, someday." Shirah stepped back and extended her hand forward. The Furyan souls here had accepted Jackie as one of their own and had already begun to give her glimpses of the past. Incomplete, incoherent, bits and pieces of a puzzle that Shirah would now fill in. "Once you remember, you will never forget." Her glowing hand pressed itself against Jackie's chest.

For a second nothing seemed to happen, then suddenly she was there. Pain, agony even, flooded her senses as she felt her genetic memory open to the past. Furya under attack. Soldiers in armor marching against warriors who fought to defend the helpless. Soldiers uncaring about their own lives… massive deaths on both sides. Flashes of the violence, the brutality of infanticide. Of children being strangled as they exited their mother's wombs. Of babies murdered in their cribs. Of schools and nurseries set aflame with the children locked inside… The reality that the Furya where she walked her mind was not the real place… but how the place might look once the bodies left scattered about were finally put to rest. The souls of those that she'd listened to came to her and infused her with their courage. They would aid her now in a more direct way. When it was over she looked at Shirah. "We _will _have this world again."

She woke up and looked at Riddick's face. He seemed to be sleeping still, but she knew he'd not slept at all. Instead his senses were strained to the limits just incase the invaders found the cave while she slept. All night long he'd stayed alert and garded her. She knew now what he'd survived through. The mark of Furya glowed on her chest for a moment before fading. She could still feel it, but the energy was not visible. He must have felt her looking at him. He opened his eyes. She smiled and whispered, "I love you."

"Really?" he mumbled.

"Yeah." She put her hands on his face and kissed him, "Really."

"I don't deserve it, babe. I'm a mean, horrible man."

She shook her head at him. He put his fingers over her lips and his forehead against hers. She listened. Boots distantly crunched against the icy snow. 'How far?' she wondered. The voices told her that they had time. She and Riddick both grabbed under the furs for their clothes and quickly dressed. He loaded up with several shivs and watched as she snagged her favorite pair. He paused to kiss her and drew her into the storage cave. He pointed up at the escape route. She climbed, using her shivs for purchase in the ice. He wore his old boots. They were cold but sure-footed. Once outside Jackie looked at his feet, pulled out some strips of fur and fitted them over his boots. She looked up at him. The dawn swirled around in the dancing snow. He helped her up and pointed off toward the fishing grounds. "If they don't follow me, lead them onto the thin ice. Or get them separated and take them out one at a time. I'm gonna try to lead them away from you." They had rehearsed this before. She nodded. The white fur hid them both in the snow. She watched as he retreated into the dim morning light until the snow flurries obscured his back. She closed her eyes and listened. One of them was in the cave already exploring. She watched the snow around her and decided to stay put.

Riddick realized that there was a scout inside the cave too. He slipped inside and watched the man study the wall of knives and spears that he and Jackie had made in the time they lived here. He watched as the merc walked into the storage cave and right into a net trap. Riddick moved in. A scout and a stupid one. He cut the man down and hauled him outside. After warning him to keep his mouth shut Riddick melted back into the snow. He tailed the fellow as he headed off toward his ship. Two more mercs met up with him. Riddick watched as money changed hands. Then he quietly killed all three of them. He picked up the UD stack and the communications gear. The mercs who'd brought the stuff here no longer needed it. The ship was easy to find. They worked for a merc named Toombs, but no other intel was in the ship's computers. He checked the date. They had been in hiding for 2 years… only 2 years. He had wanted a lifetime. Clearly the crew had just enough rope to hang themselves with. Riddick ripped the insides of the ship apart and set it to explode. Maybe if the crew never reported back this Toombs fellow would follow another lead. Maybe if he and Jackie moved… Maybe they could have more time.


	32. Checkmate

**A/N:** _My Muse is still silent mostly. The problem is while I know where this should be going, Jack's voice is missing. I know you want something though, so I'll try to bridge the gaps here. All Kyra here- just about. Hey at least someone was talking... finally._

_Thank you to all my reviewers and sorry for the long wait.  
_

**A Passage, 32**

_Checkmate_

Kyra found that slipping the 'Goll Brethren stationed at the Kova Embassy was not nearly as easy as she imagined it would be. There was no quietly slipping out at night, unseen, even though her 'room' had only a curtain holding her in, because she could never get time to study the guards' movements and patrol patterns. Her bunk mate was nearly always there and always chattering about how few people she was reaching, and that she was desperate to get her quota. As far as that went, Kyra doubted now, after going out on a few conversion attempts, that she could slip away from the Rychengolls while out preaching either. This was because she was consistently asked to speak to people who gathered. She'd not figured out why, but had complied anyway. She'd considered walking out during services, and going right out the Embassy doors. The problem with that was that Mikal was always, or nearly always, with her then.

What it boiled down to was that she was never alone for very long. Someone was always around her. Neither in the field nor in the Embassy did she get much physical privacy. That did not mean that she could not think and ponder about the problem, however. It was that planning and scheming that kept her marginally sane. She'd considered, too, the option of fighting her way out. The size of the embassy made that less then attractive as an option. Brute force, her common way, was not the way it would have to be done. She needed to be sneaky about it. She taken note of where certain things were, like the guards banner changes, the weapon stores, the general locations of various offices and things she would rather avoid in leaving. Basic plans were falling into place, if she just had enough time to finalize them.

Time was the thing she was short on. Not only was it getting physically difficult now to hide her condition, but fighting in this state of being larger then she was used to being would not be easy. Or safe. Well, fighting in any condition was not safe, but this condition put an innocent at risk and that ran counter to the convict code that she'd learned and taken to heart while under Charlie's wing. Time was short also because the task of conversion she was set to was proving far to easy for her liking. Just a couple of weeks and she'd gotten 13 already, and that was without really trying. The target number was 15, and then – she was not sure what would happen. Her guide, Mikal, seemed overjoyed with her progress, although the wild haired young woman was less then happy about it herself. She supposed the target numbers were why she was asked to speak as often as she was, even though she considered the words to be spoken with little effort or feeling.

She had been able to do some searching however for one dark skinned holy man. That he was in the local political scene rather helped her a lot- she could can the papers easy enough and spot his name. The problem was, someone that public often hid in private. His personal address was not so easy to come by, even when she did have access to public data. In spite this, she believed she might have narrowed down in general where the Imam was living, what quarter of New Mecca he and his family were in. Getting an excuse to contact the holy man was another story, however. She had hoped that if she asked for a chance to convert someone ranking here that she would be given a green light to contact him. Mikal had discouraged her from even asking. And using political clout or seduction to convince someone else in the Embassy to allow her access to communication equipment had not proven effective either. She'd gotten into this mess to protect her babe, and risking the child to play rough passion games like the Ambassador had hinted at wanting to do was never going to be an option.

Kyra sighed, eyes sweeping the gray on gray with no break in the colors that her 'room' provided her with. The gray clothes she wore blended with the gray bedding and blankets here. The underside of the upper mattress was gray with silverish bed springs under it. The curtain was gray across the alcove entrance. The padding on the floor was gray, and the pictures on the wall were all water washed gray toned images on pale gray paper. That the walls themselves were gray with tan and cream flecks and veins had proven to be the only break on the color had been something she pondered for endless hours when she should have been sleeping. Sometimes her eyes picked out faces or pictures in the natural stone's oddities. Sometimes she just stared blankly at those walls. Which was what she was doing right now, as her mind tried to work out a solution to her situation.

One thing that Helion Prime had given her was some healthy color to her skin and hair. Her curls, consistently clean now that she was a 'free' woman, were a mass of chestnut brown with copper streaks from exposure to the strong Helion sun. Her once nearly pasty pale skin had taken on a touch of tan, not enough to call her tanned, but certainly enough to chase away the traces of being stuck in a 'no daylight' double max prison basement level, like she had been. Right now those curls were loose and free, forming a halo around her head. She supposed she should be trying to rest instead of sitting up on her bunk staring at the walls.

She was having trouble getting her mind around the fact that the 'golls willfully overlooked her pregnancy. It was both a relief to not have anyone fussing over her, and bothersome at the same time. While the robes hid the evidence well there was no denying the babe's movements inside her, slight as they were. Maybe she was just super aware of it because no one else was. She did not know. The freakish people around her blindly believed the weight gain was just her eating well and the glow to be evidence of her new found faith, content in their delusions. And time was running out if she wanted a chance to give this child something better then what her own life had been. Somehow she doubted that whatever the Brethren had in mind included a white picket fence and 2.4 kids. She was only slightly upset by that, really. She could not picture herself domestic in any fashion anyway. The memories of raising siblings on a mining world oh so long ago just did not seem real anymore. Certainly they did not seem like hers. But then if they weren't hers then who did they belong to?

These times like this gave her too much to think about, really. It was silly to think that she was not Audrey Johanstein. The memories were all there- maybe too crisp and clear. That annoyed her. Sometimes it was like the memories she had were _fed_ into her brain, like the images of history and conquest that were piped into her awareness during worship. And or course they were different then those memories she had of being with Toombs, even though the cryo experience at the start of it made those moments very vivid in her mind. She'd not pondered this in the slam, when survival took the lead and every sense was focused outward. But here- it was safe. Sometimes too safe. And her mind wandered, even when she did not want it to.

Soft shuffling on the floor outside her alcove caused her to raise her head, looking to see who was approaching. She almost felt a flare of gratitude at this intrusion, seeing as it gave her something besides herself to think about. That she recognized the tempo of the movement, indeed that she knew it was Mikal even before he came within smelling distance, did not register with her as being overly strange. She noticed two things. He was buoyantly happy about something and trying to remain meekly humble about it, as though an outright display would cause whatever it was to fade away. And she was not overly sure that she would take the news he bore the same way he had taken it. He semi- slid up to her, parting the curtain that acted as a door, the expression on his face alone confirming her worse fears, "Sister Kyra, I have wonderful news. Two more people came in last night carrying your card. You have made the quota."

The correct reaction would be a brilliant smile. _Everyone_ here was eager to meet the quota. Some of them had been trying for years. She'd been here a short matter of weeks- someone else should have gain the benefit of her work, taken those numbers for themselves. Of course she was never _that_ lucky. So brilliant smile? Her face refused to form one. In fact it was having a really hard time just staying in the 'brainwashed' neutral range. One look at her eyes would show how upset and pissed off this news made her. Mikal, she knew, would reported her as a failed conversion if he spotted this reaction. That would get her tossed back int Kova Penal, exactly where she did not want to be. Kyra cast her eyes to the floor, trusting her wild curls to be an effective block to the reaction she could not suppress. A reaction that took the form of a scowl so intense that it made her forehead ache from forming it. She made a watery sounding protest, "There must be a mistake, Brother Mikal. Surely my unskilled words could not have impacted so many- others have stronger faith then I."

If anything the protest made Mikal gush even more then he was before, "Oh, Kyra- it is this humble nature you have that makes those words worth listening too. I'm surprised you did not touch more. Perhaps you should come with me to worship, Sister. It's been too long." His hand extended toward her. She knew the suggestion was not one. It was an order. And she'd gone to 'worship' just a few short hours back on her own to avoid the attentions of that Kovan Ambassador who'd taking a shine to her "plump" middle and expressed a desire to fuck her. But instead of protesting she took Mikal's hand and stood with a mumbled thanks. His arm slid around her. "I'm gladdened by this success, Sister. I've waited a long time for conversion into Brethren. It's only now that I can see the path open to me, with someone who is compatible."

Scowl finally smothered, she glanced at him sideways, now trying to fight off shock and surprise, "Come again?" Her legs were refusing to work on her, nearly locking to keep her upright at the moment. If Mikal thought it odd he did not show it. Maybe it was more common a reaction she was having then she had expected. Or these lusus naturae were truly blind, deaf, and dumb. Part of her scoffed inside at that. Brain pans fried was the case here, and willingly so.

If any of the internal whirlwind of emotions that Kyra was feeling actually showed, her mentor was oblivious to the real meaning behind them. He raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you know, Sister? The converts taken from prison have Warrior blood in them, and this is what the Brethren need."

Had she been eating or drinking anything, Kyra would have choked. She was not, luckily. Of course, her knees went half wobbly, meaning she had to catch herself from falling. It was the numbness of shock that finally settled in which saved her from the building rage that was threatening to overwhelm the civilized facade she wore. "So, I'm going to ascend, is that what you are telling me?" It was very hard to suppress the scoffing tone in her words but somehow Kyra managed it.

Mikal either did not care about or did not notice the struggle she was having, "Isn't it glorious? I would envy you for it, but for the fact that it is finally my time to ascend too- indeed we shall together." He flashed her a huge grin. But of course, he was too high in rapture to give a rat's ass about anything but himself at the moment. Seeing it on his face made Kyra pause and blink stupidly at him for a moment. He did not see that reaction either, assuming that she too must feel the same glory he was enfolded in.

The animal instinct inside her clawed its way to the surface, _They are going to rip out your fucking spine and fuse you to this freak. They don't care if you are pregnant or not. Now, what are you going to do about it?_ The creature of darkness that had been tempered inside her in the slam circled and paced restlessly. She felt like she needed to be keeping a eye on it, but really could not afford to let Mikal see exactly what was going on. Kyra knew she had to distract him. The only thing she could think of was bluffing like she was playing along. She turned and gripped his darker gray robes with both hands, startling him but causing him to stop. He looked at her. Kyra did not find him overly attractive, no. He was nothing special. She had a feeling though that she would end up with his blood on her hands, that there was not going to be much choice in the matter. The shaking running though her was threatening to send her to her knees. "Mikal, please-" He put his hands over hers and opened his mouth to speak, and her instinct was to just kiss him to shut him up. So she did. He gave her a dazed expression. "You've been a good friend, Brother, I'm -_honored_- with what I'll be able to give you." The words were truth, in a fashion- she'd have to accept that his blood would coat her skin. No other course was left open to her.

It was enough though to sooth any suspicion he might have had, that kiss and those words. It never occurred to the religious male to question her motivations. He'd been told she would be the one he'd be bound to, and so it would only figure that she would have positive feelings for him. Mikal smiled softly at her, "Come, sister- let us worship, it will be soon enough that our final conversion will occur. We have nothing but rapture to look forward to." She managed a blandish nod, and he took it as astonishment, not rebellion. The part of her ready to break and run relaxed, marginally.

Getting her legs back under her, she remained silent as they walked through the massive, streamlined building. The Kova style was ultra modern with the occasional strange organic decoration. The colors at least were not overly annoying, or bright. The predominantly gray tones of the sleeping area gradually gave way to tans flecked with charcoal, and amber lights here and there. The more public areas were designed to mostly to fit in with the native color scheme really. The civil part of her pondered this concession to the Helion 'melting pot' while the animistic side of her brushed it aside in favor of clues and details that would help her escape- when the time was right.

It was ironic, Kyra decided as the reached the worship hall that when this had first happened, she had almost hoped, in spite of herself, that she would discover God really existed. At the time nothing would have been more welcome- to find an all consuming faith in something bigger then herself. After finding that there was no Doc in double max to shine her eyes, the words she remembered about getting tossed into a no daylight slam, the words she had taken as truth and something she could use to turn her mess of a life around, became these bitter shards of glass cutting away at any faith she might have had left. The Rychengolls had offered her a tiny, tiny shred of hope that perhaps there was something worth believing in.

But time and exposure had washed that glint away. What she had learned was that the entire thing was man made, a scheme, a ploy. She was not sure who benefited from it, or why it became this self replicating monstrosity, but she was sure the entire thing had little to do with religion. There might be something there with the tech, but it was _not_ God. Perhaps it mattered little. Maybe there was no such thing as God. Or maybe she'd been born to Hell -and this existence was hell- for some transgression in a past life.

And yet- she could not and would not be the one to condemn her unborn to this. One thing she was sure of was that the child was innocent in everything, past life or no, and that made her certain that she would have to carve her way out of this, because there was no way in hell she would willingly become one of the Brethren. Mikal was nice an all, but to be connected to him for the rest of her life? She did not think so... If they would not listen to her protests, and clearly they were not going to, then she would have to make a new path. Nothing in her life had been what she wanted. And no matter how much she tried to make good on the crap dished to her, it was still crap, in the end. As long as she accepted that _her_ life was shitty, then perhaps there was a chance that her unborn could have better, if she fought for it.

Worship, now that she had made her quota, became a morning to night thing. Every waking moment was spent in prayer, and hooked up to the devices that fed history into ones brain. The message was always the same- glory to God and his chosen – the Brethren. His Holy Warriors. Such grand future that awaited those blessed to ascend... yadda, yadda, yadda... The same dogmatic crap they fed her before, telling her that only the blind could truly see, only the deaf truly hear- that God demanded the devout do certain things to prove themselves to him. Only after such steps were done would God prove himself real. As before, and as always, she shook it off, knowing that if God had to work so hard to get someone to believe in him then perhaps God was more man-made then divine.

When the first day was over, Mikal led her to a different area of the Embassy and told her that she would have new quarters, as benefited one chosen to ascend. These rooms were plusher and more exotic then she was used to. Rich materials and colors, fine soft things that were beyond anything she had ever owned before, much less touched. After so much gray it seemed garish and loud to her. If she was supposed to feel gratitude for the luxury, she failed. She barely touched the bed to sleep in, instead scavenging from it anything that might be turned quickly into weapons or lockpicks. And while Her clothing and the food she was given were both better then what she had gotten before, she did not trust any of it in any way.

Her paranoia surfaced quickly. Since she found her lack of faith kept her from being overly riveted to the images she was able to nap at the services. This meant that while she would lay down when the lights when out, she did not stay down. In fact she stopped sleeping at night altogether. The wild side of her scolded her to not dare risk such things. Hell it did not even trust the food when it was given to her. Not to say that she did not eat- actually she did eat, but only a set aside portion. She stuck to fresh fruit and veggies as much as she could, peeling or double washing it as needed before eating it. She was very careful to make it look like she had consumed it all however. The fear was that the food was laced with drugs to keep her docile and make her do what they wanted her to do. The fact that the cheerful way the empty trays were taken after each meal only made her more suspicious that she was right. Those last nights gave her time and materials to prepare because she needed to be ready when it came.

She knew too, the day it happened, before she even opened her eyes- it would be this day, and the scheme was over. The facade so cracked that it barely stood up to her looking in the mirror. She was what she was, Kyra could never be tamed, and she was tired of acting like she had been. So she was crouching when the door was rapped on, her animal mind back in focus. She stood, one shiv tucked into her sleeve, tied there against her arm. She had several knives from the food service trays tucked in between layers of her socks, too, and more then a few sharpened spoon edges. That her normally wild hair was bound up in a braid tucked into her robes and her hood up should have indicated something was not the same about her. The 'Golls missed the cues though, ushering her into their middle, acting as though this was just like any other conversion. Kyra went without a fuss, moving into their midst and biding her time.

Walking silently, not even a whisper of cloth against the floor, the killer swathed in a female form kept pace with her escort. There were 4 of them, one to each point, front and back. Soft bellied civies, would fall easy. There was the room now ahead of her, one Embassy guard stationed at the door, more to keep the curious out then the Brethren in. His gun might be tricky, but she suspected he did not know even how to use it. The man was sight in build, tallish and lanky. About her size, she figured. If she was careful, she might be able to use his uniform to get out of the embassy, and away from the Kovans. The door slid open, revealing two surgeons, Mikal on the table, his face bloody already with fresh self inflicted wounds where he'd stabbed his own eyes out, and one Brethren, who was watching and "blessing" the proceedings. All this she took in through the open door in an instant. The pause was slight enough that her escort did not notice it.

She cleared the threshold, crossing into the sterile room, and was hit with a thick heavy yellowish mist. Kyra was not ready for the face-full of gas washing her in a wave of disorientation. _What the fuck is this?_ She swayed slightly. The four to her sides were also swaying, but she was unaware of it. Her mind was too taken up with the room spinning, the distorted forms moving toward her, and the weird sense that she should be both calm and panicked. One of the figures resolved itself into the horrific shape of a cyborg-Siamese twin. Her instinct to retch would not serve her here, so she clamped down on the disgust that triggered the wave of nausea and steeled herself to face the monstrosity.

The Brethren shuffled to her, his odd toned voice echoing in the rapidly drugged state she was slipping into, "Take the sacred Blade, Sister." Kyra blinked- there was a beautifully crafted heavy dagger, ornately embellished and barbed on he edges, being extended to her. The Brethren need not tell her twice to take the weapon. She hefted it in her hand, thinking about how nicely balanced it was. It would do much better then the blades she had. Yes, much better. "God demands that your give up sight so you may truly see. A display of your profound faith would be to take this demand and do what need be done yourself -with this blade," the twin voice told her.

Kyra cocked her head to the side, the entire room moving disjointedly in her perception. _You want me to do what? Hack my own eyes out? Are you fucking insane?_ Something kept her from voicing the thoughts though, and her hand flipped the blade so that she was holding it in such a way that self inflicted wounds would be neat and quick. She raised the blade level with her eyes and focused on it. Beyond the edge of the weapon the Brethren turned away from her, as though they trusted she would do it. One eyebrow quirked slightly. She did believe that there was a gap in the Brethren's armor there, one that might well drop it fast. Lucky for her, the shiv she made was in the other hand, and loose enough on the tie that it dropped into her hand

Even in this state of mind, drugged as she was, the instinct to fight kicked in. Her hatred of the Brethren flared. _Yea it's time, Brother- Time to die. _The killer inside Kyra exploded into action, flinging the first shiv into the gap and hacking at the closest of her escorts with deadly precision. The Brethren froze as the blade shorted its cybernetics, reducing it to a living statue, unable to move at all. It started wheezing as the jolts of foreign power crossed over its flesh. The 'goll next to Kyra went down in a spray of crimson, his charcoal robes blackening with his blood. She did not pause, swirling to kick the one behind her to the other side, sending her sprawling, sideways, into the wall hard enough to crack her head against the granite tiles.

Krya crouched, pulling a knife from her sock, taking in the situation quickly. The one surgeon was thinking perhaps the the Brethren had malfunctioned and was moving closer. The other two escorts were acting shocked and confused, having gotten just as much of the gas as she had gotten. Kyra cut the closest one on her leg, deep enough to drop her and hobble her, but not enough to kill her. The other surgeon was raising a tranquilizing gun her direction, she noticed. This caused her to grab the fourth escort and pull him in front of her, before the dart hit. He fell, totally, instantly out. Krya blinked and looked back at the surgeon who seemed as startled as she was. Oh that gun – she needed it.

The robes were getting in the way now, so a knife slice later, somehow done on the move, Kyra crouched down behind the table, the one she should have been strapped to, she suspected, sans the gray material, as the other medic circled, trying to get her back in sight. His pause to look at the robe made her wonder for a moment, just how much of the gas he'd gotten, to be acting to stupid. She hit the the fellow over by the Brethren with a blade to the spine, causing him to fall into the energy he'd been trying to avoid. The room must be sound proof she figured, because the scream did not cause anyone to come running. The last man standing leveled the gun at her again and this time she jerked Mikal off the table and tossed her self up onto it, causing it to roll fast across the room, hitting the man in the middle, pinning him to the wall.

"How about I show you my faith?" she asked him as she sank the 'goll blade into his eye. "And, I'll be taking that gun there, thank you." The man was screaming, having dropped the gun in favor of clawing at his own face in an attempt to get the barbed blade free from his eye socket. Kyra flattened herself to the wall, checked the darts in the gun, and hit the intercom, "Hey, we have a situation in here, do you think you can come in here and help us hold this chick down while we strap her in- She's convulsing." The guard must have thought that sounded reasonable enough, as he opened the door and stepped in.

Kyra, flat to the wall on the guard's left, spread her arm straight out, extending the gun to nearly touch him about neck level as he entered. There was just enough time to register that the door was opening and him to step inside before she pulled the trigger, sending a dart right into his unprotected neck, between the headgear and the chest armor. He dropped before the door had time to close. Kyra wasted no time, dropping into a crouch and dragging him clear. The door slid closed and she shook her head as the fresh air helped push the drugs out of her system.

She knew she had to move quickly now. Time was running out. Krya stripped the guard, dressed in his uniform, and searched the room for more of the darts... finding none, and not wanting to actually be caught here, she snagged the real gun off the floor and moved back to the post outside. This allowed her to get herself centered and calm. The replacement guard came by soon enough. He asked, "Any word?"

"Full conversion, still in progress. Had some issue with the girl, was convulsing there for a bit, but stable now."

The guard taking over said, "Yea, these things take 36 hours usually. I'll take over here. Go kick off for your break."

Kyra just nodded, "Yes Sir". She walked away with military precision, as expected. The pieces of the plan were in place here, all the time she had observed little things that had not made sense before, now in this light were. She paused only to change into a exterior guard banner, found at the side station near the door before exiting. No one even looked twice. The alarm would not be raised for another day at least. That was more then enough time. She intended to kick off. It was the plan. Kicking off Helion, and getting the fuck away from here as far as she could go. She just needed to act civil for a little while longer.

The guard outside was not expecting a relief, and did not seem to think that her walking past him around the corner to be a big deal. She paused at the corner, ditching the armor and banner in a hedge, carefully looked both ways to make sure she was not observed, and slipped into an alley. The white shirt that had been under the armor was not the best fit for her, so she scanned the narrow alley as she walked, looking for something looser that would allow her to blend in here. Luckily for her it was common practice to line dry things in the hot Helion sunshine. Within a couple of blocks she had shed the uniform top and snagged a tunic off a laundry line. The guard's boots had not been the right size however, and the soft shoes she wore inside them did not help her much. Both sets of footwear neede to be ditched. While the pants were neutral enough, she needed shoes. She doubted that shoes would be found on a clothes line. Kyra paused at a noisy junction and dug through the pockets of the guard's uniform pants.

The previous owner of said pants had taken his wallet with him on his shift. Inside it was a withdrawal card, a note with some numbers, and she noticed an imprint of one finger on the photo window. All of that meant she could get UD. She just needed some clay. Or tape. One of the houses along the alley had both, some blobs of child's clay and a role of tape on a nearby desk where it looked like someone had been clipping something out of a newspaper. A bit of crafting later, she had lifted the print, and carefully attached it to a clay finger. Inside the wallet too was a few loose UD, enough to buy a pair of sandals from a street vendor. So leaving the alley barefoot was not too bad and she needed not walk far that way.

She located a withdrawal machine, fiddled with the card and the listed numbers and the print- and cleared out the guy's account. From there she was able to get a lift to the spaceport. Her idea was to try to get a job shipping out. No one was hiring though. So the next choice was a ticket- only she did not have quite enough for one. But she did find a freighter on the route to Proxmia. It was easy enough to slip aboard. She was able to avoid being seen and caught the entire trip too. No deaths, nothing messy, just a little computer hacking was all. But then they reached Proxmia. It was the exit that got her spotted. She was in not condition to run at that point- visibly pregnant, and dressed in clothes from Helion that gave away that she was not just some local kid checking out the ship and getting too close. Instead of making the situation worse, she attempted to charm her way out of it, paying what she had and working off the difference. The Captain of the ship was not happy – but by the same token he was not mean either. He listened as she explained to him her situation, the 'golls and their conversion idea, and how she had not wanted to do it. He even was sympathetic seeing her rounded belly, why she was wanting to get away from the Rychengolls like she had. Kyra said she slipped out, not mentioning killing anyone. She said she had computer skills that he surely could use. Only the guy proved to be too honest to take her up on it, instead turning her over to the authorities.

Since Proxmia was not a very populated place, the powers that be told her she would be sent to Aqualia, and once there her records would be pulled and justice served. If she behaved then they'd do what they could for her unborn, and give her a real chance at rehabilitation. The sheriff here on Proxmia was a nice lady, one that really seemed to care. And Kyra found herself trusting her. So she told them about what had been done to her, how guild law was broken by Toombs when he raped her, and then sold her to Kova penal- and that she had no idea who "Jack" was, because she'd never been on no ghost run or anything.

Even so, the transfer to Aqualia went smooth enough and the public defender she got was an ok lad. He listened to her story, coaching her to tell him everything, including stuff that would end up stacking her sentence higher against her. Right now he was sitting across from her, free of fear, unlike so many other civies she had met in similar situations, looking at his data screen. He took a deep breath, "Well Kyra – There is some good news. The court will hear your case, from the beginning, and count time served in Kova penal as time paid to society. This is excellent for you, because you did not get a trial last time."

She nodded at him, and said, "No, sir. I did not."

"Once more, the judge made an executive decision and dismissed charges against you on the murder of the Kovan citizen Mr. Junner. The evidence is that the prints on the murder weapon, a homemade shiv, do not match you. That's one off your record." He smiled at her. Kyra allowed herself to relax a little, just a few more weeks here and it would not matter where she went. The child inside her would be safe and that was all that mattered. "Now, I'm still trying to get the Rychengoll incident at the Kovan Embassy on Helion reduced to self defense. Your actions killed 4 and injured 4 others."

"Thanks for trying, really," she said as she ran her hand over her belly, "Only it was not just self defense here- they totally overlooked I was pregnant. Now you cannot tell me I should have let them blind me, cut out my spine, and graft me to someone else in my condition- or in any condition, for that matter."

The public defender nearly choked on his coffee a moment, "No, no- good point there. I'll raise that next time I meet with the opposing council."

She shrugged, "Soon it won't matter so much."

He frowned at her, "Kyra, they are talking about sending you to Crematoria. That's waking Triple Max, harsh does not even cover it. If I can get those four extra deaths reduced they'll keep you here, in double instead, for cyber crime- much less dangerous for you."

"Yea?" The lawyer nodded at her. She made a face, "Well, you keep trying then. No harm done there." He made a determined face and nodded, feeling like he had a plan of action now and her permission to follow it. She doubted he would succeed. As he stood up she said, "Can ya do me a favor?" He paused and looked back a her, "Send me something about Crematoria, will you? Just in case I am sent there, so I know what is in store for me?"

The fellow shook his head, "You won't need it, I promise, but I'll send you the files anyway."

She let him go with that, waited for the rather nice female guard to come escort her back to her plain if clean room. In her condition no one was really scared of her. Of course, she was glad for it- it was somewhat normal feeling. And just a few weeks more this would be over. The legal wrangling would buy her time to have her babe, and to have it in minimum security.

Ten days later she went into labor. The medics here were pleasant, the process painful but she was never mistreated. The public defender even was there holding her hand, telling her it would be OK, he'd made sure that the babe would not be taken by Johanstein – that it was registered as an Aqualian native, being born here. It eased her mind somewhat. It had been her greatest fear, really- that the child would lack birth papers as she had done. But her legal council being there in the room made it so that the birth was documented. Birth papers made it safe for someone outside the penal system to adopt the child. She heard it cry, born healthy and with no major crisis- and she smiled. She was not allowed to see the babe though, instead the milk was extracted from her to give the child, after testing to ensure it was drug free. The the lawyer told her if she signed over her rights as the mother that the babe would be given a good home. In the spirit of being reasonable, and trying to show that she was not a horrible person, just one stuck in a bad situation, she signed the papers placed in front of her.

The trial was lengthy, complete, and exacting. She was kept in minimum security on good behavior, while it was in progress, and given tests that to her seemed like the sort of thing that promised rehabilitation. Because of this she went along with it all, trying to believe that these people were just and that maybe some good would come of it. By Kyra's way of thinking, maybe there were some decent folks left in the 'Verse. The justice system in Aqualia Major at least was giving her a fair shake, treating her like she was human. She was not free, but she was not being brainwashed either.

It took months for the trial to reach the end, and when the verdict came down that 5 murders, with justification, might be forgiven, but it was the cyber crime, the creation of a viral program that would threaten all of civilization had it gotten loose, that made it too risky for her to be released into the general prison population on Aqualia. Even with the killings dismissed, she would be sent to Crematoria. Kyra merely lowered her head. She'd known all along- but her kid was safe and that was all that mattered.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Eva Logan learned enough on Aquila to know Riddick, aka Smyth, had come though space here, hitting one of the outposts between here and a neighbor in contested space. Her contacts had wanted to feed her crap, but she knew better, and sometimes playing hardball turned up things that were just a bit unexpected- like the ironic fact that the funeral barge for Antonia Chillingsworth had been the ship Smyth hijacked. Funny how the universe was sometimes. The Telvis Class _Amenjard _was not the fastest ship Smyth could have taken, but it was the most reliable one. It had been stocked with a shit-load of feast supplies and goods for religious services that only the richest of Kovan elite could have afforded. It would be easy enough to set the intel up for Toombs to locate on his own, without selling it to him, so she had no qualms about not passing the sensitive data over.

Before she could leave Aquila, however, something else fell into her lap- the very interesting chance to get a look at one Audrey Johanstein for herself. Or Jack B. Badd. Or Kyra- as the young woman was calling herself now. This was not the girl she had scans of with Smyth. That much Eva knew on sight. So then, it was the one that Toombs left at Kova. It was hard to see the the gal she picked up as dangerous, seeing how she was clean, groomed, and well behaved. Older then Eva expected, actually. She looked more in her early twenties then late teens. The two women eyed each other over, and Eva wondered if this gal really was Audrey. She was a fighter, true enough, but she did not smell like a Furyan. The pheromones were wrong for it. So who exactly was this young woman? Toombs must have told her the truth, so Johanstein had done what, exactly? Clone his adopted daughter? If so, Eva was left wondering why.

The prison system gave over the records when asked for them, Kyra herself honestly providing the data needed to track her movements from the time she was turned over to Toombs until the moment Eva took her into custody. If the truth had been told and the real Jack B. Badd was still with Smyth then Audrey was effectively in two places at once and had been for - years.

What happened once she had the young woman alone was hard to explain. Kyra seemed to know, instinctively, which side she was really on, hissing to her, "You're no fucking Merc. What are you doing this for?" Eva got Kyra onto her little ship, only pausing to motion her quiet. Kyra took the suggestion to behave until she was in the craft with her, "Not setting me free are you?"

"Can't do that. You have a role to play, my Da told me so and he's never wrong about these things. Trust me here, huh?" Telling Kyra that good behavior would benefit her was pointless. Explaining that fate was rolling things to were they needed to be was likely a waste of time. That did not mean that Eva did not try however.

Kyra gave her an odd look. Something told her that shit would be OK, if she just played the game correctly now. But what game was it? How could anything be OK with her on her way to Crematoria? "Why the fuck should I trust you?"

"Look around, Kyra." Eva said with a wave of her hand. The hardened young woman scoped out the ship noticing it was clean, much too clean for a merc ship. The state of the art Cryo system was in extremely good shape. Whatever this woman really did for a living it was not ferry prisoners to the hardest slam in the known Universe. Watching the chained woman take in the ship and clues, Logan frowned, "I don't know if you would believe me. But – no harm in telling you, I guess." Kyra's eyes flicked back to Eva, and their gaze caught, "My Da fled from Furya when he was a teen- claims he was told to go, to hide, to wait for the correct time for things to set into motion. Just like your Da was sent away, or dragged, or something- Both of us have roles to play and it's bigger then any single one of us."

Her day was taking a turn into surreal. Was the chick telling her the truth? The disbelief rolling off Kyra was almost like a smothering wall. "Furya? What the hell are you talking about?"

Logan rubbed her temples. Clearly Audrey had not been told about the past like she had been told, it was possible that the other half blood's sire had not ever had a chance to say anything. And furthermore, Eva suspected that Johanstein had not given his adopted daughter much of a real education. "Okay- there was a war, before we were born, between the various colonies- one of the places that lost was Furya. But the war is not over-" Kyra interrupted her with a scoff. Eva tightened her face, "Listen, you don't have to believe me. I doubt that Shirah has reached out to you. If my Ma hadn't been part Furyan too, I'd never have been marked, myself-" she paused to see how the other woman was taking this, noting that in spite the scoffing Kyra was listening a least, "My Ma, being half-blood, was never contacted. My Da had to do some serious worshiping to get her to show and accept me. And even so, she does not speak to me, just the one vision, one time, because my Da led me into it."

"Would this 'Shirah' have like long blond braided hair?" - Kyra had never heard the form say anything, but she did remember the woman in her visions, one that looked eerily like her, but was really not, and that woman did have her blond tresses made up that way. Could it be that her sanity had been saved because of some mystic connection in her blood?

She got a cocked eyebrow, "Yea- she did have. Dressed in leathers, with weapons- old fashioned weapons-" the expression on Kyra's face was odd, almost like she was trying deny what she was hearing. "You've seen her, haven't you?"

"Maybe," Kyra conceded. "I saw someone, anyway- in furs and leathers, with her hair in braids, long blond hair." Logan was nodding. Kyra took a breath. This woman believed her, almost like she was in awe of her. "So – OK... say I do believe you. Doesn't mean much. What can I do stuck in the Slam?"

Eva smirked, "Oh, I think fate will surprise you, Kyra. Your role will be vital."

Given the odd nature of the conversation, Kyra surprised herself by not fighting Logan and getting into the cryo chair on her own. Her mind was taken up with remembering the visions, ones she had not experienced for a very long time. She did not ask about the details, or ponder if the sun she should have noticed being dim icy purple or warm orange. She did not think to ask if the world this woman inhabited was icy and cold or lush and forested. In fact, Kyra realized as she sank into Cryosleep that it mattered little if she had seen Shirah or not- she'd already chosen to go along with the game.

Eva watched the hardened young woman slide into the blackness of chemical sleep, Wondering for once if her Da's instructions was really right. It seemed as though the train had the breaks off, and she was in a very dangerous position at the moment. Perhaps not as much as Kyra was, but when she did finally meet Riddick face to face would he kill her first and then ask later who she was? The dark headed woman rubbed her upper chest lightly where the remembered sting from the mark still burned, even after all this time. She knew what had happened- she remembered it. If fate called for her death, then she would die, willingly. Her brown eyes flicked back open as the sound of the rest of her "cargo's" arrival reached her. They would function as a temporary crew, those handful of new guards for the Crematoria Slam who needed to get there before the next supply run. Only the insane, desperate, or cunning actually wanted to work there. She suspected that these men were a mix of all three.

Not wasting time, she got them into space, sleeping, with herself as the point person to wake up first. She did not trust anyone else with her ship.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kyra's eyes opened to the the controlled chaos of landing on Crematoria. Everything she had read indicated that this world should never have been built upon. Or inside of, for that matter. Volcanically active, wobbling on it's orbit, atmosphere dominated by nitrogen and argon that was both baked at 400 degrees above zero and frozen at 200 below it, often within ten clicks of one another, which generated intense winds on the surface filled with ash and other lose debits. The temperature extremes meant that metal even did not last long here. Most of the surfaces that were exposed to the sunlight were made of special heat resistant materials. All of this filtered through her brain as she tried to wake up. Cryo impacted her oddly, as though at some point she'd had knowledge pumped into her brain that resurfaced only when she was half awake. The more alert she became, the less she remembered of it. Her grasp on the understanding of what she had read faded as her eyes focused.

She was woozy still, unable to follow the reasoning for the orders that Eva Logan barked out to the men under her. None of the males had made this run, and it was clear that Eva had done it before, commanding them to do things as though their lives depended on it. Considering how they responded, perhaps it did. These were guards, not mercs. There was no whooping when the ship slid to a halt in the hanger, instead there was the sensation of that being that- perhaps even it being more then they were expecting. Or less. The men got out of the ship, turned their attention to getting their gear, leaving Logan to handle the prisoner, considering that they were not being paid to escort one. This suited both women fine. Kyra had already decided to play this safe, to not make trouble.

Logan indicated for the men to allow her to keep the prisoner in front of the tram, while it meant that Kyra got a real seat, and one of them had to ride with their luggage, they did not protest it much. The prison boss met them at the far end, and Eva told him she was not there for an extended cut- she'd been paid already by Aquila to make this run. Douruba had other reasons for wanting to keep Logan there- he knew of her rep, her call on info. Surely there were things she had for trade, and he would be willing to ply some of his hard eared UD for it. Eva made a face, "I'm on a tight schedule- I can spare you 26 hours, Doobie." Not everyone could get away calling him 'Doobie', but Logan could. He might even pay her the merc's fee for her prisoner.

Kyra watched the man flirt and Logan act amused. The new guards were shown off to their quarters leaving the prison boss, Eva, Kyra, and a handful of other guards in the control room. "You sure you don't want that cut, Evie-girl?" the Boss asked the merc again.

"Um? What did I tell you? Every time I come here as a favor for someone you pull this. I am not staying a day for you to look shit up to figure my cut."

Several of the guards looked uneasy at that, which Kyra figured might be a pretty rare thing. Douruba was shaking his head, "You know I have to add her to the books anyway. You have her Ident, or do I need to scan her?" Eva looked around and handed a card off to one of the others in the room, a baby-faced fellow with the name Anatoli imprinted on his pocket label. "Good, saves us a lot a hassle."

Eva made a face, "You know she came straight from Aquila. You know because it was called in to you. I was fucking there, so I know it was called in to you."

The guard with the card was shaking his head, "Somethin's not matchin up here, records of this one from Kova, and this chip here places her on Helion, Boss. - No good this one."

Eva snarled, "Anatoli, - I'm not even taking the fucking Merc's cut for her, just sign her in here so I can get clearance to leave!"

While the man was looking from Logan to his boss, Kyra was noticing one the guards eying her with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. She knew that even if she lived out the rest of her life here, it would never be free from certain dangers. The guards were as much predators as any criminal was. Right now she knew that she had caught the eye of on such predator. What the punishment for self defense was here, she had no idea. She doubted it could be worse then Kova's tiny rat infested garbage filled bins that she had spent far too much time in. It was clear that this Slam did not get that many visitors, even when supplies came in. Certainly female visitors were extremely rare. It was not likely that the women inside the prison proper were all that easy to convince that they should be showing the guards any sort of lovin' either. This meant that many guards would learn to do without, or even attempt gang bangs on those they caught. The most pragmatic of them knew that such things were risky, and that getting ones dick shoved down ones throat was just as likely to happen as any other outcome.

Once in a while though, there would be some smuck who though it would never happen to them. One such guard was Vladimir Pavlov. He'd arrived on Crematoria about 3 supply runs back, a beefy, broad man who thought the world was his oyster. Well trained in other slams dealing with double max prisoners, he assumed that triple, waking or no, would be just about the same. While Crematoria was one fairly fucked up place, he got on well enough with the Boss, and the violence tempered his own instincts. He liked Eva well enough, but she was not what was giving him a rise at the moment.

Oddly, Kyra was more then aware of this and had been even before she got off the tram. Maybe it was his leer. Maybe it was how he leaned toward her. Or maybe it was just instinct. Sometimes a killer just knew who would end up dead by their own actions. Good Old V. Pavlov was someone she'd have to watch out for. Douruba waved aside his underling's protest. Eva was not going to stay. Not this time. "Sign her in, drop her down." With that Kyra put her focus on what was important, survival.

"Drop? Put her down on a fucking lift, Cocksucker!" Eva protested.

Douruba raised an eyebrow, "My Slam. My Rules. Drop her on a line." Pavlov moved over and caught Kyra by her hair. He dragged the slim girl to the hook. Kyra let out grunt but went with him peacefully enough, moving quickly to avoid major pain. She glared at him as he caught the chains in the hook and flipped up the manhole in the floor that opened for the wrench and rope. The Boss merely watched the proceedings as Kyra was pushed through the hole in the floor.

She heard Eva mutter, "Bastard." If the prison Boss had a retort it was spoken too softly for Kyra to follow, and seeing as she was being dropped into the pit, it really did not matter. What did matter now, was the place she was being lowered into, and the people who lived there, captive because society had decided that they, like her, were to dangerous to be allowed to live elsewhere. Where the micro-society inside the Slam was one that sometimes mirrored the one outside it, just with more intensity and danger, Kyra knew it better then the outside. In some ways this was home, more so then anything else she knew. Part of her settled into place again, and she became truly calm for the first time since she'd left Kovan Penal.

She took stock of what she had, some news, contact with the outside world, her clothes, her shoes, her skills- the Aquailian prison garb was high end stuff, and she knew she'd have to fight to keep it. The rest of it was immaterial, she would just have to prove the skills as something worth trading for. As she approached the bottom of the drop it became clear that the fighting to keep her clothing might start sooner then she expected. Now, normally, being as she had no blades on her, that would be considered rather tough, and indeed the three scrawny men covered with sulfur-yellow streaks must have thought she'd be an easy target. Well, she came in quiet enough, considering she figured why waste the energy on the guards and crap, because she was not leaving this place – not even in a body bag.

She remembered again what Logan had told her about fate and scoffed. This place was better then being pimped out by Johanstein. Better then being abused by a boat load of horny mercs who would rather stab you in the back as to teach you anything. And yes, here was better then Kova, because here there would be no sickos trying to break her. Kyra's mind snapped back to the moment, the approaching fight. One thing everyone, Prisoner and Guard alike, would learn fast- _she_ was not easy in any sense. The first ones to learn this would be the yellow streaked trio waiting for her to get in range.

The first guy, a little taller then the others, was overly eager for his lesson, she decided as he reached for her feet. He was not intending on helping her to the ground. She certainly did not trust him to be acting with any thought of kindness. Fact was, he had weapons, and it looked like to her that he'd cut her feet off to get her boots, if she gave him half a chance to. Nuts to that. She kicked his head hard, that his face was there hardly mattered. The scream and blood as he fell did not even raise an eyebrow. It certainly did not stop the other two with him from advancing on her.

Kyra pulled her legs up into her chest, plan forming as she eyed them both over. She was about 2 meters up from the lava hard surface now. If she was to have a chance here she would need to approach this – hands first. With her hands caught over her head, that was not exactly an easy situation. Time was of the essence here though, and she could not doubt herself. She would have to beat the three, outsmarting them, or kill them. And while breaking the chains would have helped, Kyra just did not have the mass to do it.

Thankfully she was still very limber from her fights on Kova, If she could not break the chains she would have to use them as a weapon. She folded herself up and caught the ropes with her feet, shimmying up it, wrapping one leg around it, like an acrobat might do. Once she was sure that the weight was off her hands, and she was definitely upside down, she worked the chains out of the hook.

As the chain popped free she became aware of another issue though, the oil in the rope. Her fast slide meant she had to adjust her plans on the fly. Her foot caught the hook, and the energy allowed her to catch on of the other sulfur-boys with her arms, chain around his neck.

It was a good catch. He'd brace her fall, she'd snap his neck- looked like a win to her. The other of the trio caught her hair, keeping his buddy gasping, bruised, but alive. Kyra grunted, twisted, and landed a heavy soled boot in the joker's family jewels. He howled and let go, while the man she'd used to catch her fall whimpered and rolled away, his own hands on his throat. The wild haired girl crouched, arms positioned to use the heavy cuffs as a weapon. She had picks in her hair still that would get the blasted things unlocked. She never got a chance to use them however, as someone above her who had been watching her arrival chose to step in. The clear echoes of hands connecting in applause were so unusual that she found herself trying to peg the source of it.

The slow clapping caused the "salvage" crew to back away instead of coming in for another round. They knew who it was, and they knew that their existence even at this level was fully dependent upon his approval. If he chose to step in, then they backed off. If he chose to stay away, they took it as permission to keep harassing and attacking said arrival until they had gotten what they were after. While they might have felt cheated, it did not keep them from scattering from the source of it, fleeing into the crevasses of the old lava flow and the steam vents that scattered across the lower level of the prison.

Kyra's attention was thus divided between the sounds of the three would be attackers and the source of the noise. It did not take long to spot the movement of the gathering crowd. The second wave. These people were dressed in rag-tag clothes, pieced together from whatever they could find or salvage. One thing they were not, however, were dirty in the sense of the Kova prison. Sweaty, yes, dirty no. They seemed to take enough pride in themselves that they wore clean clothes, kept the level of the place clean enough to reduce the chance of getting sick, and all told she though they looked healthy enough.

Her eyes then spotted the leader. A weathered soul, one that seemed to have the authority of age here. Older but not weakened with it. Wise but not softened by keeping more for himself then his fellows. Lean and tough, and he looked to her like someone she might respect enough to consider actually liking him. Maybe. There were many similarities between this guy and Charlie, she thought. Certainly both commanded respect and likely had beaten everyone who challenged them to it.

But for all the similarities, there were massive differences too. She could see that in the way the man carried himself, in the band that glinted off his battered and mangled fingers, in how the others seemed to follow him almost as though he alone had any sanity left to them all. This man was not looking for goods to trade. He was not after sex to sell. He might not even want services of other sorts, like guards or blade makers. Indeed the people here seemed to have a different way about them. It was as though this man imposed his will over them all in such a way to make them work together. This was something new for Kyra, and she would have to learn fast how to fit into this new kind of place. Her eyes flicked up the levels of the prison, puzzling over the clues there about exactly what sort of slam this was. Other prisoners were gathering to watch on the levels above her, leaning on the rails as if to overhear the distant conversation. Those following their leader formed an honor guard of sorts, but as he got within range of non-shouting communication they stopped down the ramps, hanging back. Clearly then he'd be the one then to tell her the _real_ rules here. Kyra focused on him, her blue eyes meeting his gaze with an openness that could only come with youth.

That locking of their eyes told the older man volumes about the young woman he was approaching. Wild, untamed, honest- able to be a violent as the situation called for, but basically the kind of person who treated others as they treated her. He supposed then that his speech would not fall on deaf ears and she might even be smart enough to actually understand the message behind it. He would have to guard himself from caring too much about this one, because he could, if he tried, find himself caring far too much. Kids like her did not last long in places like this. Not unless they found themselves a champion, someone older who was willing to take them under a wing. And even then, the chances were that next culling they would end up dead anyway.

Still, sometimes fate had other ideas. He might just risk it, depending on how she took his words, "There are _Inmates..._" he stated as he ticked the stick across the metal scaffolding forming the ramps that connected the levels of cells which were their shelter in times of need. Most of them functioned to keep something horrible out, not them in. As such the doors were open, the inhabitants standing on the tiers above him, looking down, watching the happenings. The girl was as aware of this as he was, but totally focused on him with every pore. He was casual enough, secure in his place here. It was a good thing the newcomer paid attention, because he was not the sort to repeat, and brushing him off meant the scavengers would creep back out to slit her throat later. "And there are _Convicts_."

Kyra slowly relaxed from her 'kill everything' stance. The man was down to one level above her and descending. She found her voice and tilted her chin up at him, "Says who?"

The man revealed a grudging approval, faint but there, "Says the Guv." He pointed at himself, "Says _me_- little girl."

Kyra quirked an eyebrow. The man seemed to take this as a fact of truth, a point that was unchanging. She supposed that here, in this prison, is was. Now then, what would she do? It was survival, fit in and follow the rules or die. She doubted if anyone cared if she died or not, and here the passing would not even be noticed. Her entire life would be unremarked, she supposed. But then he was offering her a choice. That much was clear. She chose to accept his authority, indicating such with a nod.

The Guv was impressed enough as her stance to give her the full spiel, "A Convict has a certain code. Learns the corners, the pulse of the slam, the system – not the prison system, but _our_ system. A Convict knows to show a certain respect to the fellows when it is warranted." He was putting foot now on the ground, the uneven surface of an old lava flow that was newer then the prison itself.

"I'm listenin'," she told him, holding her head high, and thinking she knew already what else he was going to say. This was old stuff- things Charlie had taught her. Of course she expected to hear that their way was a fighting way. That's how double max had been, after all.

He eyed her over with practiced care. Someone this young was either totally amoral or had been given a really rough shake. He was making a bet on the latter, "An Inmate, on the other hand, pulls the pin on the fellows. Does the guards' work for them. - Brings shame..." He swung the stick at her stopping just shy of hitting her, watching her reaction, and she surprised him by tensing but not striking back, "To the game." Calling that a 'pass' the Guv tapped the heavy rod and cuffs with the tip of the stick causing the locks to spring open, "In this slam, Inmates don't last long, girl. It might be shards of volcanic glass in their food, or a shiv to the gut, but I assure you- we take care of our own right fast here."

"What I gotta do?" she met his gaze, the blue of her eyes sparking like diamonds in the gathering heat of Hades, the name given the sun here, which was felt even this far down.

Motioning to another con, the man raised the cuffs up on the end of the stick. The fellow approached the Guv on the left, a roughly sewn bag in on hand. Once in range the leader deposited those chains into bag open for them. The return of the gear, unharmed, would get them extra rations, which was more then they could catch in this rat hole. The girl watched, seeming to understand that they were his to take, "Do? All you got to do is answer one thing- which would you be?"

She smirked, "I ain't no rooster, if that is what you are asking, Guv. Just give me a chance to prove it." The Guv nodded. She'd get her chance. He'd extend trust to her on her word, not being a plant or inmate, and let her earn the title of Convict.

There was the bell tone above them that announced the arrival of trade items. Guv motioned to the guy with the bag and he hurried away to the lift, along with a bunch of the others who had followed the leader down. Kyra found herself still face to face with the older man. He motioned to her and turned to ascend the catwalk back up the tiers. For whatever reason, he chose to show his trust in her, and she rushed a step to come up to his side, "I read about this place. So hot in the dawn that it kills, So cold in sunset it kills- only twilight is safe- ."

"The day- which, mind you lasts a good 52 hours here- forms our fame work, hot and cold, even this deep down. Don't go making plans to leave. Once that rope drops you, you are stuck here," Guv told her. "You got a name?"

"Kyra. No last, no middle, just Kyra."

"Kyra," He repeated, letting the name flow across his tongue and form in the air, carried in his gravelly voice. "You must have done quite a lot to get tossed in here, Kyra. Young thing like you normally would wind up staying in Aqualian slams." Of course he recognized the jumpsuit and shoes. "The threads will get you a lot, if you are willing to trade and don't mind rough clothes in exchange. But," the Guv looked at her, "Keep the shoes. You won't find better down here." She nodded, taking the 'advice' as an order. If she was going to survive here she would need to be under someone's wing- Guv seemed to be the top person here and he took a shine to her. She'd be a fool to pass that up. "There's no fighting pit here, you'll learn why, soon enough. We all do what we can to work together, within limits and reason. You can make your own way here, or learn the ropes from someone who has the system on his side." The reached the elevator where the supplies were being exchanged. The guards would get back cuffs and such, various things that had value up top, including some of the plant material that the prisoners cultivated for trade, and the prisoners got rations and some other things that seemed to not have clear use at first. The Guv tapped a crate, "The cuffs were hers, and she gave them to us without a fight. Now, she deserves a cut for that."

Here was the first test- how much was she going to demand? Kyra remembered what Charlie told her, '_When among fellows who are on your side, share and share alike- stand together or fall together.' _She met the Guv's stare face on and declared, "I gave those cuffs to you to do with as you needed to do for the good of all here. Just give me a fair portion, enough to survive a day, and we'll be even."

The nod she got was a clear 'passed'. It would not take her long to learn the ropes, if she paid attention. And Guv liked that. Smart young thing like her would be a valuable ally. He made sure she knew which holes here were his, what places she could slip into, and what the cost would be for it. If Kyra was shy about picking out what she would do for a measure of safety he never saw it. Guv knew that if he wanted her in his cot he could prove his worth to her, easy enough. Right now though the gold band on his finger still held some say in who he bedded, even if he did not remember the woman's name or knew if she still lived.

All the same, the Guv gave his fellows that look calling dibs on the girl, if only to make it clear she was his to bed or not, and that they needed to leave her alone until he gave the clear. This would not apply to the guards however. There were some things he could not protect her from. Kyra quickly made it known on her own right that she was a shiv maker, able to craft good weapons from scrap, She was also agile, fast, and daring. Her sharp mind and quick wit meant that most the cons under Guv learned to respect her, and she was honest enough to respect her elders.

She learned why the prison had no major lock down procedures, within the first twenty six hours of being there. The first time it happened the Guv took her under his arm and steered her into a cell with a heavy door, along with 2 others, who were currently in his good graces. He made sure the door was secure as the unearthly baying howled through the falling heat of the day. "This is the 'culling'. Hellhounds. Guards cut them loose – get caught out there facing one, they _will_ eat you." Kyra nodded and watched the alien creatures prowl past the door, searching for anyone unlucky to still be outside. "Twice a day they do this, twilight dusk, and twilight Dawn- It'll be getting cold soon. The air coming in is hot, but clean. I suggest you do any trading you want to do before folks get to settled in to sleep but after the cork goes back in."

That she would do, with her clothes, skills, and knowledge. Kyra bartered what she knew about the outside world in exchange for help surviving inside the prison. She traded her jumpsuit for hand spun clothes and metal scrap. She might have to scavenge also, but this was something. She sought out news about the eyeshine, and found that here, like Kova, there was no one to do such a thing. The days passed, and she slowly spread her wings as she learned the beat here. The Guv respected her intelligence and her wit. But he did not bed her, and that reduced her standing with the other long term cons. Even so, she knew her place, and had his protection. She could sleep at night knowing that none of the Guv's fellows would try to molest her.

Of course, that did not mean that the guards had forgotten her existence, in spite the fact that for many a culling they did not see her. In the end it only made Vladimir Pavlov desire her more, not less. And finally the day came where he got his chance to dance with the devil- and she took more then his soul.

It had happened by mistake, a mistimed jump landed Kyra face to face with a Hellhound, and her safety on the other side of it. She'd chosen then to flee down, outsmarting the creature, and using a chain to get to the bottom of the pit quickly. Since she did a lot of her crafting down there, the gem scavengers had come to accept her in their domain, even the one who'd gotten his nose busted. She had no fear of them anymore. So the crevices they hid in had been her goal, and the stench down there was enough that most times the hounds avoided it. However, Pavlov usually scoped out the area by foot, looking for any he could catch, male or female. Only those who could slip into areas that the big guard could not fit into were really safe down there.

Being rattled by the near fatal encounter above, Kyra was not overly focused on the danger that the guards posed below, and because of this, Pavlov was able to grab her, pin her to the wall, and in general get too close into her personal space. Now, even if the man had been with the other three guards assigned to look down here, his man handling was not standard. However, he'd been able to get away with this before on others, and simply did not realize that Kyra was not like them. Instead of being pinned for long, Kyra was able to just about spin in her skin, turning the tables faster then you please. Pavlov was not a slouch either, but – within a short time he'd gotten kicked, cut with some rather sharp handmade shivs, and had more then a few bones broken. That should have stopped him.

Instead he reacted by becoming enraged, yelling, and jumping Kyra a second time. Her reaction was to gut him, sharp shiv to the belly, and a swift kick to the side of his head. He hit hard and did not get up. His yell however, brought the other three guards, who with their maulsticks were able to finally get her subdued. They pushed her into a Hellhound transport, one of the few things that acted as isolation here. The prison boss shook his head about it all and ordered her to be treated to the confines of the kennel. Pavlov on the other hand would get to greet the daylight, in two hours...


End file.
